THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES GIFT OF "Ma" Crandell THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE HOW THE STAR OF GOOD FORTUNE ROSE AND SET AND ROSE AGAIN, BY A WOMAN'S GRACE, FOR ONE JOHN LAW o/LAURISTON A NOVEL by EMERSON HOUGH THE ILLUSTRATIONS by HENRY HUTT The BOWEN-MERRILL COMPANY PUBLISHERS, INDIANAPOLIS COPYRIGHT NINETEEN HUNDRED Two EMERSON HOUGH APRIL All Rights Reserved PRESS OF BRAUN WORTH & CO. BOOKBINDERS AND PRINTERS BROOKLYN. N. Y. ?s 3515 HBI ml I 3 o ^ Cop. 2. TO L. C. H. 1451622 CONTENTS BOOK I CHAPTER PAGE I THE RETURNED TRAVELER 3 II AT SADLER'S WELLS 12 III JOHN LAW OF LAURISTON 22 IV THE POINT OF HONOR 28 V DIVERS EMPLOYMENTS OF JOHN LAW 44 VI THE RESOLUTION OF MR. LAW 60 VII TWO MAIDS A-BROIDERING 66 VIII CATHARINE KNOLLYS 78 IX IN SEARCH OF THE QUARREL 87 X THE RUMOR OF THE QUARREL 92 XI AS CHANCE DECREED 98 XII FOR FELONY 104 XIII THE MESSAGE 113 XIV PRISONERS 120 XV IF THERE WERE NEED 129 XVI THE ESCAPE 143 XVII WHITHER 153 CONTEXTS BOOK II CHAPTER PAGE I THE DOOR OF THE WEST 161 II THE STORM 170 III AU LARGE 178 IV THE PATHWAY OF THE WATERS 186 V MESSASEBE 194 VI MAIZE 203 VII THE BRINK OF CHANGE 212 VIII TOUS SAUVAGES 218 IX THE DREAM 230 X BY THE HILT OF THE SWORD 235 XI THE IROQUOIS 240 XII PRISONERS OF THE IROQUOIS 249 XIII THE SACRIFICE 258 XIV THE EMBASSY 266 XV THE GREAT PEACE 279 BOOK III I THE GRAND MONARQUE 296 II EVER SAID SHE NAY 804 III SEARCH THOU MY HEART 316 CONTEXTS CHAPTEB PAGE IV THE REGENT'S PROMISE 324 V A DAY OF MIRACLES 388 VI THE GREATEST NEED 350 VII THE MIRACLE UNWROUGHT 357 VIII THE LITTLE SUPPER OF THE REGENT 366 IX THE NEWS 394 X MASTER AND MAN 400 XI THE BREAKING OF THE BUBBLE 421 XII THAT WHICH REMAINED 428 XIII THE QUALITY OF MERCY 448 BOOK I ENGLAND THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE CHAPTER I THE RETURNED TRAVELER "Gentlemen, this is America !" The speaker cast upon the cloth-covered table a singular object, whose like none of those present had ever seen. They gathered about and bent over it curiously. "This is that America," the speaker repeated. "Here you have it, barbaric, wonderful, abounding !" With sudden gesture he swept his hand among the gold coin that lay on the gaming table. He thrust into the mouth of the object before him a handful of louis d'or and English sovereigns. "There is your America," said he. "It runs over with gold. No man may tell its richness. Its beauty you can not imagine." "Faith," said Sir Arthur Pembroke, bending over the table with glass in eye, "if the ladies of that land have feet for this sort of shoon, methinks we might (3) 4 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE well emigrate. Take you the money of it. For me, I would see the dame could wear such shoe as this." One after another this company of young English men, hard players, hard drinkers, gathered about the table and bent over to examine the little shoe. It was an Indian moccasin, cut after the fashion of the Abenakis, from the skin of the wild buck, fashioned large and full for the spread of the foot, covered deep with the stained quills of the porcupine, and dotted here and there with the precious beads which, to the maker, had more worth than any gold. A little flap came up for cover to the ankle, and a thong fell from its upper edge. It was the ancient foot-covering of the red race of America, made for the slight but effectual protection of the foot, while giving perfect freedom to the tread of the wearer. Light, dainty and graceful, its size was much less than that of the average woman's shoe of that time and place. oule roulant." (161) 162 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE The ictus of the measure marked time for the sweeping paddles, and under the added impetus the paper shell, reinforced as it was by close-laid splints of cedar, and braced by the fiber-fastened thwarts, fairly yielded to the rush of the waves as the stalwart paddlers sent it flying forward. A tiny blur of white showed about the bows, and now and again a splash of spray came inboard, as some little curl ing white cap was divided by the rush of the swiftly moving prow. "We shall not arrive too soon, my friend," rejoined the captain of the voyageurs, casting an eye back across the great lake, which lay black and ominous under a threatening sky, the sweep and swirl of its white caps ever racing hard after the frail craft, as though eager to break through its paper sides and tear away the human beings who thus fled on so lightly. This boat, mysteriously appearing as though it were some spirit craft called from the ancient deeps, was far from the beginning of its wild journey. Wide as the eye might reach, there arose no fleck of snowy canvas, nor showed the dark line of any similar craft propelled by oar or paddle. They were alone, these travelers. Before them, at the entrance of the wide arm of the great lake Michiganon, lay the point even at that early day known as the Door THE DOOR OF THE WEST 163 of the West, the beginning of the winding water-way which led on into the interior of that West, then so alluring and unknown. The eyes of all were fixed on the low, white-fronted bluffs, crowned by dark forest growth, which guarded the bay at either hand. This spot, so wild, so remote, so sig nificant it was home for these voyageurs as much as any; as much, too, for Law and the woman who lay back, pale-faced and wide-eyed, among the bales in the great canoe. In time the graceful craft approached the beach, on which the long waves rolled and curled, now gently, now with imposing force. With the water yet half-leg deep, Du Mesne and two of the pad- dlers sprang bodily overboard and held the boat back from the pebbles, so that its tender shell might not be damaged. Law himself was as soon as they in the water, and he waded back along the gun wale until he reached the stern, the water nearly up to his hips. Reaching out his arms, he picked up Mary Connynge from her seat and carried her dry- shod ashore, bending down to catch some whispered word. Not so gallant was Du Mesne, the leader of the voyageurs. He uttered a few short words of semi-command to the Indian woman, who had been seated on the floor of the canoe, and she, without protest, crawled forward over the thwarts and the 164 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE heaped bundles until she reached the bow, and then went ankle deep into the creaming flood. The great canoe, left empty and anchored safe from the peb bles of the beach, tossed light as a cork on the in coming waves. A little open space was quickly found at the edge of the cove in which the disembarkation was made, and here Du Mesne and his followers soon kicked away the twigs and leveled out a smooth place upon the grass. Each man produced from his belt a broad-bladed knife, and for the moment disappeared in the deep fringe of evergreens which lined the shore. Fairly in the twinkling of an eye a rude frame of bent poles was made, above which were spread strips of unrolled birch bark from the cargo of the canoe. Over the spaces left uncovered by the supply of bark sheets there were laid down long mats made by Indian hands from dried reeds and bulrushes, affording no inconsiderable protec tion against the weather. Inside the lodge, bales of goods and packages of provisions were quickly arranged in comfortable fashion. Gaudy blankets were spread upon layers of soft skins of the buf falo. The Indian woman had meantime struck a fire, whose faint blue smoke curled lakeward in the soft evening air. Quickly, and with the system of experienced campaigners, the evening bivouac had THE DOOR OF THE WEST 165 been prepared; and wildly picturesque it must have seemed to a bystander, had there been indeed any possible spectator within many leagues. Far enough was this from the turmoil of London, which Law and his companion had left nearly a year before; far enough still from the wild capital of New France, where they had spent the winter, after landing, as much by chance as through any plan, at the port of the St. Lawrence. Ever a demon of unrest drove Law forward; ever there beckoned to him that irresistible West, of which he was one of the earliest to feel the charm. Farther and farther westward, swift and swifter than ever the boats of the fur traders had made the journey before, he and his party, led by Du Mesne, the ex-galley- slave and wanderer whom Law had by chance met again, and gladly, at Montreal, had made the long and dangerous run up the lakes, past Michilimack- inac, down the lake of Michiganon, headed toward the interior of a new continent which was then, as for generations after then, the land of wondrous distances, of grand enterprises, of magnificent prom ises and immense fulfilments. The bales and bun dles of this bivouac belonged to John Law, bought by gold from the gaming tables of Montreal and Que bec, and ventured in the one great hazard which ap pealed to him most irresistibly, the hazard of life 166 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE and fortune in a far land, where he might live unneighbored, and where he might forget. Gam bler in England, gambler again in New France, now trading fur-merchant and voyageur, he was, as al ways, an adventurer. Du Mesne and his hardy crew hailed him already as a new captain of the trails, a new coureur, won from the Old World by the savage witchery of the New. He was their brother ; and had he indeed owned longer years of training, his keenness of eye, his strength of arm, his tireless- ness of limb could hardly have been greater than they seemed in his first voyage to the West. "Tons les printemps, Tant des nouvelles" hummed Du Mesne, as he busied himself about the camp, casting the while a cautious eye to note the progress of the threatening storm. "Tons les amants Chang ent des maitresses. Jamais le bon vin n'endort L 'amour me reveille!" "The best is before us now, Monsieur L'as," said Du Mesne, joining Law, at length. "Assuredly the best is always that which is ahead and which is un- THE DOOR OF THE WEST 167 known ; but in point of fact the hardest of our jour ney is over, for henceforth we may stretch our legs ashore, and hunt and fish, and make good camps for madame, who, as we both perceive, is much in need of ease and care. We shall make all safe and comfortable for this night, doubt not. "Meantime," continued he, "let us see that all is well with our men and arms, for henceforth we must put out guards. Attention, comrades! Pre sent your pieces and answer the roll-call! Pierre Berthier 1" "Id! Monsieur," replied the one better known as Pierre Noir, a tall and dark-visaged Canadian, clad in the common costume, half-Indian and half-civil ized, which marked his class. A shirt of soft dressed buckskin fell about his thighs ; his legs were encased in moose-skin leggings, deeply fringed at the seams. About his middle was a broad sash, once red, and upon his head a scanty cap of similar color was pushed back. At his belt hung the great hunting knife of the voyageur, balanced by a keen steel tomahawk such as was in common use among the Indians. In his hand he supported a long-bar reled musket, which he now examined carefully in the presence of the captain of the voyageurs. "Robert Challon !" next commanded Du Mesne, and in turn the one addressed looked over his piece, 168 the captain also scrutinizing the flint and priming with careful eye. "Naturally, mes enfants" said he, "your weapons are perfect, as ever. Kataikini, and you, Kabayan, my brothers, let me see," said he to the two In dians, the former a Huron and the latter an jib- way, both from the shores of Superior. The In dians arose silently, and without protest submitted to the scrutiny which ever seemed to them unneces sary. "Jean Brebceuf!" called Du Mesne; and in re sponse there arose from the shadows a wiry little Frenchman, who might have been of any age from twenty to forty-five, so sun-burnt and wrinkled, yet so active and vigorous did he seem. "Mon ami" said Du Mesne to him, chidingly, "see now, here is your flint all but out of its en gagement. Pray you, have better care of your piece.' For this you shall stand the long watch of the night. And now let us all to bed/' One by one the little party was lost to view within the dark interior of the hut which they had arranged for themselves. Du Mesne retired a dis tance from the fire and seated himself upon a fallen log, his pipe glowing like a coal in the enveloping darkness. Law himself did not so soon leave the outer air. THE DOOR OF THE WEST 169 He remained gazing out at the wild scene about him, at the rolling waves dashing on the shore, their crests whitening in the glare of the lightning, now approaching more closely. He harkened to the roll of the far-off thunder reenforced by the thunder of the waves upon the shore, and noted the sweep of the black forest about, of the black sky overhead, unlit save for one far-off, faint and feeble star. It was a new world, this that lay around him, a new and savage world. If there were a world be hind him, a world which once held sunlight and flowers, and love and hope why then, it was a world lost and gone forever, and it was very well that this new world should be so different and so stern. In the darkness John Law heard a voice, the voice of a woman in terror. Swiftly he stepped to the door of the rude lodge. "Don't let them sing it again never any more that song." "And what, Madam?" "That one 'Tons Us amants changent des mattresses!"' A moment later she whispered, "I am afraid." CHAPTER II THE STORM Marshaling to the imperious orders of the tem pest, and crowding close upon the flaming standards of the lightning, the armies of the clouds came on. The sea-wide surface of the lake went dull, and above it bent a sky appalling in its blackness. The wind at first was light, then fitful and gusty, like the rising choler of a man affronted and nursing his own anger. It gained in volume and swept on across the tops of the forest trees, as though with a hand contemptuous in its strength, forbearing only by reason of its own whimsy. Now and again the cohorts of the clouds just hinted at parting, letting through a pale radiance from the western sky, where lingered the departing day. This light, as did the illuminating glare of the forked flames above, disclosed the white helmets of the trooping waters, rushing on with thunderous unison of tread ; and the rattling thunder-shocks, intermittent, though coming steadily nearer, served but to emphasize these (170) THE STOKM 171 foot strokes of the waves. The heavens above and the waters under the earth these conspired, these marched together, to assail, to overwhelm, to utterly destroy. To destroy what? Why this wild protest of the wilderness? Was it this wide-blown, scattered fire, whose sparks and ashes were sown broadcast, till but stubborn remnants clung under the shel tering back-log of the bivouac hearth? Was it this frail lodge, built upon pliant, yielding poles, cov ered cunningly with mats and bark, carpeted with robe of elk and buffalo? Yet why should the ele ments rage at a tiny fire, and why should they tear at a little house of nomad man, since these things were old upon the earth? Was it somewhat else that incited this elemental rage? This might have been; for surely, builder of this hearth-fire which would not quench, master of this house which would not yield, there was now come up to the door of the wilderness the white man, risen from the sea, heralding the day which the tribes had for generations blindly prophesied! The white man, stern, stubborn, fruitful, had come to despoil the West of its secrets ! Let all the elements therefore join in riotous revolt! Let earth and sea and sky make common cause! Rage, waves, and blaze, ye fiery tongues, 172 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE and threaten, forests, with all your ominous voices! Smite, destroy, or terrify into swift retreat this little band! Crush out their tenement! Loosen and brush off this feeble finger-grasp at the ancient threshold! With banners of flame, with armies of darkness, with shoutings of the captains of the storms, assail, denude, destroy, if even by the agony of their terrors, these feeble folk now come hither ! And by this more especially, since they would set the seal of fruitfulness upon the land, and bring upon the earth a generation yet to follow. Hover about this bed in the frail and swaying lodge of bark and boughs, all ye most terrifying spirits! Let not this thing be ! "Mother of God!" cried Jean Brebceuf, bending low and pulling his tunic tighter by the belt, as he came gasping into the faint circle of light which still remained at the fire log. "'Tis murderous, this storm! Ah, Monsieur du Mesne, we are dead men ! But what matter ? 'Tis as well now as later. Said I not so to you all the way down Michiganon from the Straits? A rabbit crossed my path at the last camp before Michilimackinac, and when we took boat to leave the mission at the Straits, three crows flew directly across our way. Did I not beseech you to turn back? Did I not tell you, most of all, that we had no right, honest voyageurs THE STORM 173 that we are, to leave for the woods without con fessing to the good father? 'Tis two years now since I have been proper shriven, and two years is too long for a voyageur to remain unabsolved. Mother of God ! When I see the lightnings and listen to that wind, I bethink me of my sins my sins! I vow a bale of beaver " 1 "Pish! Jean," responded Du Mesne, who had come in from the cover of the wood and was casting about in the darkness as best he might to see that all was made secure. "Thou'lt feel better when the sun shines again. Call Pierre Noir, and hurry, or our canoe will pound to bits upon the beach. Come !" All three went now knee-deep in the surf, and Du Mesne, clinging to the gunwale as he passed out, was soon waist deep, and time and again lost his footing in the flood. i "Pull !" he cried at last. "Now, en avant!" He had flung himself over the stern, and with his knife cut the hide rope of the anchor-stone. Overboard again in an instant, he joined the others in their rush up the beach, and the three bore their ship upon their shoulders above the reach of the waves. i "Myself," said Pierre Noir, "shall sleep beneath the boat to-night, for since she sheds water from below, she may do as well from above." 174 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE "Even so, Pierre Noir," said Du Mesne, "but get you the boat farther toward your own camp to-night. Do you not see that Monsieur L'as is not with us?" "EhlienF "And were he not surely with us at such time, unless ?" "Oh, assurement!" replied Pierre Noir. "Jean Breboeuf, aid me in taking the boat back to our camp in the woods." Now came the rain. Not in steady and even downpour, not with intermittent showers, but in a sidelong, terrifying torrent, drenching, biting, cut ting in its violence. The swift weight of the rain gave to the trees more burden than they could bear. As before the storm, when all was still, there had come time and again the warning boom of a falling tree, stricken with mysterious mortal dread of that which was to come, so now, in the riot of that arrived danger, first one and then another wide- armed monarch of the wood crashed down, adding with its downfall to the testimony of the assailing tempest's strength and fury. The lightning now came not only in ragged blazes and long ripping lines of light, but in bursts and shocks, and in bomb- like balls, exploding with elemental detonations. Balls of this tense surcharged essence rolled out over the comb of the bluff, fell upon the shadows of the THE STORM 175 water, and seemed to bound from crest to white- capped crest, till at last they split and burst asunder like some ominous missiles from engines of wrath and destruction. And now, suddenly, all grew still again. The sky took on a lighter, livid tone, one of pure venom. There came a whisper, a murmur, a rush as of mighty waters, a sighing as of an army of the condemned, a shrieking as of legions of the lost, a roaring as of all the soul-felt tortures of a world. From the forest rose a continuous rending crash. The whip lash of the tempest cracked the tree trunks as a child beheads a row of daisies. Piled up, falling, riven asunder, torn out by the wind, the giant trees joined the toys which the cynic storm gathered in its hands and bore along until such time as it should please to crush and drop them. There passed out over the black sea of Michi- ganon a vast black wraith; a thing horrible, tremen dous, titanic in organic power. It howled, exe crated, menaced; missed its aim, and passed. The little swaying house still stood! Under the shel tered log some tiny sparks of fire still burned, omen of the unquenchable hearthstones which the land was yet to know ! "Holy God! what was it? What was that which passed?" cried Jean Breboauf, crawling out from 176 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE beneath his shelter. "Saint Mary defend us all this night! 'Twas the great Canoe of the Damned, running au large? across the sky ! Mary, Mother of God, hear my vow ! From this time Jean Brebceuf shall lead a better life !" The storm, baffled, passed on. The rain, unsat isfied, sullenly ceased in its attack. The waves, hopeless but still vindictive, began to call back their legions from the narrow shore. The lightnings, un- sated in their wrath, flared and flickered on and out across the eastward sea. With wild laughter and shrieks and imprecations, the spirit of the tem pest wailed on its furious way. The red West had raised its hand to smite, but it had not smitten sure. In the silence of the night, in the hush follow ing the uproar of the storm, there came a little wailing cry; so faint, so feeble, yet so mighty, so conquering, this sign of the coming generation, the voice of the new-born babe. At this little human voice, born of sorrow and sin, born to suffering and to knowledge, born to life in all its wonders and to death in all its mystery the elements per chance relented and averted their fury. Not yet was there to be punished sin, or wrong, or doubt, or weakness. Not at once would justice punish the parents of this babe and blot out at once the record of their fault. Storm and lightning, darkness and THE STOKM 177 the night yielded to the voice of the infant and al lowed the old story of humanity and sin, and hope and mercy to run on. The babe wailed faintly in the silence of the night. Under the hearth-log there still endured the fire. And then the red West, seeing itself con quered, smiled and flung wide its arms, and greeted them with the burgeoning dawn, and the voices of birds, with a sky blue and repentant, a sun smiling and not unkind. CHAPTER HI AU LARGE It was weeks after the night of the great storm, and the camp of the voyageurs still held its place on the shore of the great Green Bay. The wild game and the abundant fishes of the lake gave am ple provender for the party, and the little bivouac had been rendered more comfortable in many ways best known to those dwellers of the forest. The light jest, the burst of laughter, the careless ease of attitude showed the light-hearted voyageurs con tent with this, their last abode, nor for the time did any word issue which threatened to end their tarrying. Law one morning strolled out from the lodge and seated himself on a bit of driftwood at the edge of the forest's fringe of cedars, where, seemingly half forgetting himself in the witchery of the scene, he gazed out idly over the wide prospect which lay before him. He was the same young man as ever. Surely, this increased gauntness was but the result (178) AU LARGE 179 of long hours at the paddle, the hollow cheeks but betokened hard fare and the defining winds of the outdoor air. If the eye were a trace more dim, that could be due but to the reflectiveness induced by the quiet scene and hour. Yet why should John Law, young and refreshed, drop chin in hand and sit there moodily looking ahead of him, compre hending not at all that which he beheld? Indeed there appeared now to the eye of this young man not the white shores and black crowned bluffs and distant islands, not the sweep of broad-winged birds circling near the waters, nor the shadow of the high-poised eagle drifting far above. He felt not the soft wind upon his cheek, nor noted the warmth of the on-coming sun. In truth, even here, on the very threshold of a new world and a new life, he was going back, pausing uncertainly at the door of that life and of that world which he had left behind. There appeared to him not the rolling undulations of the black-topped forest, not the toss ing surface of the inland sea, nor the white-pebbled beach laved by its pulsing waters. He saw instead a white and dusty road, lined by green English hedge-rows. Back, over there, beyond these rolling blue waves, back of the long water trail over which he had come, there were chapel and bell and robed priest, and the word which made all fast forever. 180 But back of the wilderness mission, back of the straggling settlements of Montreal and Quebec, back of the blue waters of the ocean, there, too, were church and minister; and there dwelt a woman whose figure stood now before his eyes, part of this mental picture of the white road lined with the hedges of green. A hand was laid on his shoulder, and he half started up in sudden surprise. Before him, the sun shining through her hair, her eyes dark in the shadow, stood Mary Connynge. A fair woman in deed, comely, round of form, soft-eyed, and light of touch, she might none the less have been a very savage as she stood there, clad no longer in the dress of civ ilization, but in the soft native garb of skins, orna mented with the stained quills of the porcupine and the bizarre adornments of the native bead work; in her hair dull metal bands, like any Indian woman, upon her feet little beaded moccasins the very moc casins, it might have been, which Law first had seen in ancient London town and which had played so strange a part in his life since then. I "You startled me," said Law, simply. "I was thinking." 1 A sudden jealous wave of woman's divining intu ition came upon the woman at his side. "I doubt not," said she, bitterly, "that I could name the sub- f AU LARGE 181 ject of your thought! Why? Why sit here and dream of her, when here am I, who deserve every thing that you can give ?" She stood erect, her eyes flashing, her arms out stretched, her bosom panting under the fringed gar ments, her voice ringing as it might have been with the very essence of truth and passion. Law looked at her steadily. But the shadow did not lift from his brow, though he looked long and pondered. "Come," said he, at length, gently. "None the less we are as we are. In every game we take our chances, and in every game we pay our debts. Let us go back to the camp." As they turned back down the beach Law saw standing at a little distance his lieutenant, Du Mesne, who hesitated as though he would speak. "What is it, Du Mesne?" asked Law, excusing himself with a gesture and joining the voyageur where he stood. "Why, Monsieur L'as," said Du Mesne, "I am making bold to mention it, but in good truth there was some question in my mind as to what might be our plans. The spring, as you know, is now well advanced. It was your first design to go far into the West, and there to set up your station for the trading in furs. Now there have come these little incidents which have occasioned us some delay. 182 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE While I have not doubted your enterprise, Monsieur, I bethought me perhaps it might be within your plans now to go but little farther on perhaps, in deed, to turn back " "To go back ?" said Law. "Well, yes; that is to say, Monsieur L'as, back again down the Great Lakes." "Have you then known me so ill as this, Du Mesne?" said Law. "It has not been my custom to set backward foot on any sort of trail." "Oh, well, to be sure, Monsieur, that I know quite well," replied Du Mesne, apologetically. "I would only say that, if you do go forward, you will do more than most men accomplish on their first voy age au large in the wilderness. There comes to many a certain shrinking of the heart which leads them to find excuse for not faring farther on. Yonder, as you know, Monsieur, lie Quebec and Montreal, somewhat better fitted for the abode of monsieur and madame than the tents of the wil derness. Back of that, too, as we both very well know, Monsieur, lie London and old England; and I had been dull of eye indeed did I not recognize the opportunities of a young gallant like yourself. Now, while I know yourself to be a man of spirit, Monsieur L'as, and while I should welcome you gladly as a brother of the trail, I had only thought AU LAEGE 183 that perhaps you would pardon me if I did but ask your purpose at this time." Law bent his head in silence for a moment. "What know you of this forward trail, Du Mesne?" said he. "Have you ever gone beyond this point in your own journeyings ?" "Never beyond this," replied Du Mesne, "and in deed not so far by many hundred miles. For my own part I rely chiefly upon the story of my brother, Greysolon du L'hut, the boldest soul that ever put paddle in the St. Lawrence. My brother Greysolon, by the fire one night, told me that some years before he had been at the mouth of the Green Bay per haps near this very spot and that here he and his brothers found a deserted Indian camp. Near it, lying half in the fire, where he had fallen in exhaus tion, was an old, a very old Indian, who had been abandoned by his tribe to die for that, you must know, Monsieur, is one of the pleasant customs of the wilderness. "Greysolon and his men revived this savage in some fashion, and meantime had much speech with him about this unknown land at whose edge we have now arrived. The old savage said that he had been many moons north and west of that place. He knew of the river called the Blue Earth, perhaps the same of which Father Hennepin has told. And 184 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE also of the Divine Kiver, far below and tributary to the Messasebe. He said that his father was once of a war party who went far to the north against the Ojibways, and that his people took from the Ojibways one of their prisoners, who said that he came from some strange country far to the west ward, where there was a very wide plain, of no trees. Beyond that there were great mountains, taller than any to be found in all this region here about. Beyond these mountains the prisoner did not know what there might be, but these mountains his people took to be the edge of the world, beyond which could live only wicked spirits. This was what the prisoner of the Ojibways said. He, too, was an old man. "The captive of my brother Greysolon was an Outagamie, and he said that the Outagamies burned this prisoner of the Ojibways, for they knew that he was surely lying to them. Without doubt they did quite right to burn him, for the notion of a great open country without trees or streams is, of course, absurd to any one who knows America. And as for mountains, all men know that the mountains lie to the east of us, not to the westward." "'Twould seem much hearsay," said Law, "this information which comes at second, third and fourth hand." AU LAEGE 185 "True/' said Du Mesne, "but such is the source of the little we know of the valley of the Messasebe, and that which lies beyond it. None the less this idea offers interest." "Yet you ask me if I would return." "'Twas but for yourself, Monsieur. It is there, if I may humbly confess to you, that it is my own ambition some day to arrive. Myself this West, as I said long ago to the gentlemen in London appeals to me, since it is indeed a land unoccu pied, unowned, an empire which we may have all for ourselves. What say you, Monsieur L'as ?" John Law straightened and stiffened as he stood. For an instant his eye flashed with the zeal of youth and of adventure. It was but a transient cloud which crossed his face, yet there was sadness in his tone as he replied. "My friend," said he, "you ask me for my answer. I have pondered and I now decide. We shall go on. We shall go forward. Let us have this West, my friend. Heaven helping us, let me find somewhere, in some land, a place where I may be utterly lost, and where I may forget P THE PATHWAY OF THE WATERS The news of the intended departure was received with joy by the crew of voyageurs, who, on the warn ing of an instant, fell forthwith to the simple tasks of breaking camp and storing the accustomed bales and bundles in their places in the great canot du Nord. "La voila!" said Tete Gris. "Here she sits, this canoe, eager to go on. J Tis forward again, mes amis! Forward once more; and glad enough am I for this day. We shall see new lands ere long." "For my part," said Jean Brebceuf, "I also am most anxious to be away, for I have eaten this white- fish until I crave no more. I had bethought me how excellent are the pumpkins of the good fathers at the Straits; and indeed I would we had with us more of that excellent fruit, the bean." "Bah! Jean Brebceuf," retorted Pierre Noir. ""Pis but a poor-hearted voyageur would hang about a mission garden with a hoe in his hand in- (186) THE PATHWAY OF THE WATEKS 187 stead of a gun. Perhaps the good sisters at the Mountain miss thy skill at pulling weeds." "Nay, now, I can live as long on fish and flesh as any man/' replied Jean Brebceuf, stoutly, "nor do I hold myself, Monsieur Tete Gris, one jot in courage back of any man upon the trail." "Of course not, save in time of storm," grinned Tete Gris. "Then, it is 'Holy Mary, witness my vow of a hale of beaver P It is " "Well, so be it," said Jean Brebceuf, stoutly. " 'Tis sure a bale of beaver will come easily enough in these new lands; and though I insist again that I have naught of superstition in my soul when a raven sits on a tree near camp and croaks of a morning before breakfast as upon my word of honor was the case this morning there must be some ill fate in store for us, as doth but stand to reason." "But say you so?" said Tete Gris, pausing at his task, with his face assuming a certain serious ness. "Assuredly," said Jean Brebceuf. " 'Tis as I told you. Moreover, I insist to you, my brothers, that the signs have not been right for this trip at any time. For myself, I look for nothing but disas ter." The humor of Jean Brebceuf s very gravity ap- 188 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE pealed so strongly to his older comrades that they broke out into laughter, and so all fell again to their tasks, in sheer light-heartedness forgetting the superstitions of their class. Thus at length the party took ship again, and in time made the head of the great bay within whose arms they had been for some time encamped. They won up over the sullen rapids of the river which came into the bay, toiling sometimes waist-deep at the cordelle, yet complaining not at all. So in time they came out on the wide expanse of the shallow lake of the Winnebagoes, which body of water they crossed directly, coming into the quiet channel of the stream which fell in upon its west ern shore. Up this stream in turn steadily they passed, amid a panorama filled with constant change. Sometimes the gentle river bent away in long curves, with hardly a ripple upon its placid surface, save where now and again some startled fish sprang into the air in fright or sport, or in the rush upon its prey. Then the stream would lead away into vast seas of marsh lands, waving in illimitable reaches of rushes, or fringed with the unspeakably beauti ful green of the graceful wild rice plant. In these wide levels now and again the channel divided, or lost itself in little cul de sacs, from which the paddlers were obliged to retrace their way. All THE PATHWAY OF THE WATEES 189 about them rose myriads of birds and wild fowl, which made their nests among these marshes, and the babbling chatter of the rail, the high-keyed call ing of the coot, or the clamoring of the home-build ing mallard assailed their ears hour after hour as they passed on between the leafy shores. Then, again, the channel would sweep to one side of the marsh, and give view to wide vistas of high and rolling lands, dotted with groves of hardwood, with here and there a swamp of cedar or of tamarack. Little herds of elk and droves of deer fed on the grass-covered slopes, as fat, as sleek and fearless of mankind as though they dwelt domesticated in some noble park. It was a land obviously but little known, even to the most adventurous, and as chance would have it, they met not even a wandering party of the native tribes. Clearly now the little boat was climbing, climbing slowly and gently, yet surely, upward from the level of the great Lake Michiganon. In time the little river broadened and flattened out into wide, shallow expanses, the waters known as the Lakes of the Foxes ; and beyond that it became yet more shal low and uncertain, winding among quaking bogs and unknown marshes; yet still, whether by patience, or by cheerfulness, or by determination, the craft stood on and on, and so reached that end of the waterway 190 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE which, in the opinion of the more experienced Du Mesne, must surely be the place known among the Indian tribes as the "Place for the carrying of boats." Here they paused for a few days, at that mild summit of land which marks the portage between the east bound and the west bound waters ; yet, im pelled ever by the eager spirit of the adventurer, they made their pause but short. In time they launched their craft on the bright, smooth flood of the river of the Ouisconsins, stained coppery-red by its far-off, unknown course in the north, where it had bathed leagues of the roots of pine and tam arack and ceda'A They passed on steadily west ward, hour after hour, with the current of this great stream, among little islands covered with timber; passed along bars of white sand and flats of hard wood; beyond forest-covered knolls, in the openings of which one might now and again see great vistas of a scenery now peaceful and now bold, with tur- reted knolls and sweeping swards of green, as though some noble house of old England were set back secluded within these wide and well-kept grounds. The country now rapidly lost its marshy character, and as they approached the mouth of the great stream, it being now well toward the middle of the THE PATHWAY OF THE WATEES 191 summer, they reached, suddenly and without fore warning, that which they long had sought. The sturdy paddlers were bending to their tasks, each broad back swinging in unison forward and back over the thwart, each brown throat bared to the air, each swart head uncovered to the glare of the mid day sun, each narrow-bladed paddle keeping unison with those before and behind, the hand of the pad- dler never reaching higher than his chin, since each had learned the labor-saving fashion of the Indian canoeman. The day was bright and cheery, the air not too ardent, and across the coppery waters there stretched slants of shadow from the embowering forest trees. They were alone, these travelers; yet for the time at least part of them seemed care-free and quite abandoned to the sheer zest of life. There arose again, after the fashion of the voyageurs, the measure of the paddling song, without which in deed the paddler had not been able to perform his labor at the thwart. "Dans mon chemin j'ai rencontre " chanted the leader ; and voices behind him responded lustily with the next line : "Trois cavaliers bien monies " "Trois cavaliers ~bien monies " chanted the leader again. 192 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE "L'un a cheval et I'autre a pied " came the response ; and then the chorus : "Lou, Ion laridon daine Lon, Ion laridon dai!" The great boat began to move ahead steadily and more swiftly, and bend after bend of the river was rounded by the rushing prow. None knew this coun try, nor wist how far the journey might carry him. None knew as of certainty that he would ever in this way reach the great Messasebe; or even if he thought that such would be the case, did any one know how far that Messasebe still might be. Yet there came a time in the afternoon of that day, even as the chant of the voyageurs still echoed on the wooded bluffs, and even as the great birch-bark ship still responded swiftly to their gaiety, when, on a sudden turn in the arm of the river, there appeared wide before them a scene for which they had not been prepared. There, rippling and rolling under the breeze, as though itself the arm of some great sea, they saw a majestic flood, whose real nature and whose name each man there knew on the instant and instinctively. "Messasebe! Messasebe!" broke out the voices of the paddlers. "Stop the paddles !" cried Du Mesne. "Voila!" THE PATHWAY OF THE WATERS 193 John Law rose in the bow of the boat and un covered his head. It was a noble prospect which lay before him. His was the soul of the adventurer, quick to respond to challenge. There was a flutter ing in his throat as he stood and gazed out upon this solemn, mysterious and tremendous flood, com ing whence, going whither, none might say. He gazed and gazed, and it was long before the shadow crossed his face and before he drew a sigh. "Madam," said he, at length, turning until he faced Mary Connynge, "this is the West. We have chosen, and we have arrived !" MESSASEBE The boat, now lacking its propelling power, drifted on and out into the clear tide of the mighty stream. The paddlers were idle, and silence had fallen upon all. The rush of this majestic flood, steady, mys terious, secret-keeping, created a feeling of awe and wonder. They gazed and gazed again, up the great waterway, across to its farther shore, along its roll ing course below, and still each man forgot his paddle, and still the little ship of New France drifted on, just rocking gently in the mimic waves which ruffled the face of the mighty Father of the Waters. "By our Lady!" cried Du Mesne, at length, and tears stood in his tan-framed eyes as he turned, " 'tis true, all that has been said ! Here it is, Mes- sasebe, more mighty than any story could have told ! Monsieur L'as, 'tis big enough to carry ships/' " 'Twill carry fleets of them one day, Du Mesne," replied John Law. " 'Tis a roadway fit for a nation. (194) MESSASEBE 195 Ah, Du Mesne ! our St. Lawrence, our New France they dwindle when compared to this new land." "Aye! and 'tis all our own!" cried Du Mesne. "Look; for the last ten days we have scarce seen even the smoke of a wigwam, and, so far as I can tell, there is not in all this valley now the home of a single white man. My friend Du L'hut he may be far north of the Superior to-day for aught we know, or somewhere among the Sauteur people. If there be any man below us, let some one else tell who that may be. Sir, I promise you, when I see this big water going on so fast and heading so far away from home well, I admit it causes me to shiver !" " "Pis much the same," said Law, "where home may be for me." "Ah, but 'tis different on the Lakes," said Du Mesne, "for there we always knew the way back, and knew that 'twas down stream." "He says well," broke in Mary Connynge. "There is something in this big river that chills me. I am afraid." "And what say you, Tete Gris, and you, Pierre Noil ?" asked Law. "Why, myself," replied the former, "I am with the captain. It matters not. There must always be one trail from which one does not return." 196 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE "Oui" said Pierre Noir. "To be sure, we have passed as good beaver country as heart of man could ask ; but never was land so good but there was better just beyond." "They say well, Du Mesne," spoke John Law, presently; "'tis better on beyond. Suppose we never do return ? Did I not say to you that I would leave this other world as far behind me as might be?" "Eh 'bion, Monsieur L'as, you reply with spirit, as ever," replied Du Mesne, "and it is not for me to stand in the way. My own fortune and family are also with me, and home is where my fire is lit." "Very well," replied Law. "Let us run the river to its mouth, if need be. 'Tis all one to me. And whether we get back or not, 'tis another tale." "Oh, I make no doubt we shall win back if need be," replied Du Mesne. "'Tis said the savages know the ways by the Divine Eiver of the Illini to the foot of Michiganon; and that, perhaps, might be our best way back to the Lakes and to the Moun tain with our beaver. We shall, provided we reach the Divine River, as I should guess by the stories I have heard, be then below the Illini, the Ottawas and the Miamis, with I know not what tribes from west of the Messasebe. 'Tis for you to say, Monsieur L'as, but for my own part and 'tis but a hazard at MESSASEBE 197 best I would say remain here, or press on to the river of the Illini." "'Tis easy of decision, then/' replied Law, after a moment of reflection. "We take that course which leads us farther on at least. Again the pad dles, my friends ! To-night we sup in our own king dom. Strike up the song, Du Mesne I" A shout of approval broke from the hardy men along the boat side, and even Jean Brebceuf tossed up his cap upon his paddle shaft. "Forward, then, mes amis!" cried Du Mesne, set ting his own paddle-blade deep into the flood. "En roulant ma ~boule, roulant " Again the chorus rose, and again the hardy craft leaped onward into the unexplored. Day after day following this the journey was re sumed, and day after day the travelers with eager eyes witnessed a prospect of continual change. The bluffs, bolder and more gigantic, towered more pre cipitous than the banks of the gentler streams which they had left behind. Forests ranged down to the shores, and wide, green-decked islands crept into view, and little timbered valleys of lesser streams came marching down to the imposing flood of Mes- sasebe. Again the serrated bluffs broke back and showed vast vistas of green savannas, covered with tall, waving grasses, broken by little rolling hills, 198 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE over which crossed herds of elk, and buffalo, and deer. "'Tis a land of plenty," said Du Mesne one day, breaking the habitual silence into which the party had fallen. "'Tis a great land, and a mighty. And now, Monsieur, I know why the Indians say 'tis guarded by spirits. Sure, I can myself feel something in the air which makes my shoulder- blades to creep/' "'Tis a mighty land, and full of wonders," as sented Law, who, in different fashion, had felt the same mysterious spell of this great stream. For himself, he was nearer to reverence than ever yet he had been in all his wild young life. Now so it happened that at length, after a long though rapid journey down the great river, they came to that stream which they took to be the river of the Illini. This they ascended, and so finally, early in one evening, at the bank of a wide and placid bayou, shaded by willows and birch trees, and by great elms that bore aloft a canopy of cling ing vines, they made a landing for the bivouac which was to prove their final tarrying place. The great canot du Nord came to rest at the foot of a timbered hill, back of which stretched high, rolling prairies, dotted with little groves and broken with wide swales and winding sloughs. The leaders of MESSASEBE 199 the party, with Tete Gris and Pierre Noir, ascended the bluffs and made brief exploration; not more, as was tacitly understood, with view to choosing the spot for the evening encampment than with the purpose of selecting a permanent stopping place. Du Mesne at length turned to Law with questioning gaze. John Law struck the earth with his heel. "Here !" said he. "Here let us stop. 'Tis as well as any place. There are flowers and trees, and meadows and hedges, like to those of England. Here let us stay I" "Ah, you say well indeed I" cried Du Mesne, "and may fortune send us happy enterprises." "But then, for the houses/' continued Law. "I presume we must keep close to this little stream which flows from the bluff. And yet we must have a place whence we can obtain good view. Then, with stout walls to protect us, we might but see ! What is that beyond ? Look ! There is, if I mistake not, a house already builded !" "'Tis true, as I live!" cried Du Mesne, lower ing his voice instinctively, as his quick eye caught the spot where Law was pointing. "But, good God ! what can it mean ?" They advanced cautiously into the little open space beyond them, a glade but a few hundred yards across and lined by encircling trees. They saw 200 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE indeed a habitation erected by human hands, ap parently not altogether withoiit skill. There were rude walls of logs, reinforced by stakes planted in the ground. From the four corners of the in- closure projected overhanging beams. There was an opening in the inclosure, as they discovered upon closer approach, and entering at this rude door, the party looked about them curiously. Du Mesne shut his lips tight together. This was no house built by the hands of white men. There were here no quarters, no shops, no chapel with its little bell. Instead there stood a few dried and twisted poles, and all around lay the litter of an abandoned camp. "Iroquois, by the living Mother of God!" cried Pierre Noir. "Look!" cried Tete Gris, calling them again out side the inclosure. He stood kicking in the ashes of what had been a fire-place. He disclosed, half buried in the charred embers, an iron kettle into which he gazed curiously. He turned away as John Law stepped up beside him. "There must have been game here in plenty," said Law. "There are bones scattered all about." Du Mesne and Tete Gris looked at each other in silence, and the former at length replied: "This is an Iroquois war house, Monsieur L'as," MESSASEBE 201 said he. "They lived here for more than a month, and, as you say, they fed well. But these bones you see are not the bones of elk or deer. They are the bones of men, and women, and children.'* Law stood taking in each detail of the scene about him. "Now you have seen what is before us," resumed Du Mesne. "The Iroquois have gone, 'tis true. They have wiped out the villages which were here. There are the little cornfields, but I warrant you they have not seen a tomahawk hoe for a month or more. The Iroquois have gone, yet the fact that they have been here proves they may come again. What say you, Tete Gris; and what is your belief, Pierre?" Tete Gris remained silent for some moments. " 'Tis as Monsieur says," replied he at length. " 'Tis all one to me. I go or stay, as it shall please the others. There is always the one trail over which one does not return." "And you, Pierre ?" "I stay by my friends," replied Pierre Noir, briefly. "And you, Monsieur L'as?" asked Du Mesne. Law raised his head with the old-time determina tion. "My friends," said he, "we have elected to come into this country and take its conditions as we 202 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE find them. If we falter, we lose; of that we may rest assured. Let us not turn back because a few savages have been here and have slaughtered a few other savages. For me, there seems but one opinion possible. The lightning has struck, yet it may not strike again at the same tree. The Iroquois have been here, but they have departed, and they have left nothing to invite their return. Now, it is neces sary that we make a pause and build some place for our abode. Here is a post already half builded to our hands." "But if the savages return ?" said Du Mesne. "Then we will fight," said John Law. "And right you are," replied Du Mesne. "Your reasoning is correct. I vote that we build here our station." "Myself also," said Tete Gris. And Pierre Noir nodded his assent in silence. CHAPTEE VI MAIZE "Ola! Jean Brebceuf," called out Du Mesne to that worthy, who presently appeared, breathing hard from his climb tip the river bluff. "Know you what has been concluded?" "No; how should I guess?" replied Jean Bre- bceuf. "Or, at least, if I should guess, what else should I guess save that we are to take boat at once and set back to Montreal as fast as we may? But that what is this? Whose house is that yon der?" "'Tis our own, mon enfant" replied Du Mesne, dryly. "'Twas perhaps the property of the Iro- quois a moon ago. A moon before that time the soil it stands on belonged to the Illini. To-day both house and soil belong to us. See; here stood the village. There are the cornfields, cut and trampled by the Iroquois. Here are the kettles of the natives " "But, but why what is all this? Why do we not hasten away?" broke in Jean Brebceuf. (203) 204 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE "Pish! We do not go away. We remain where we are." "Kemain? Stay here, and be eaten by the Iro- quois? Nay! not Jean Breboeuf." Du Mesne smiled broadly at his terrors, and a dry grin even broke over the features of the im passive old trapper, Tete Gris. "Not so fast with your going away, Jean, my brother," said Du Mesne. "Thou'rt ever hinting of corn and the bean; now see what can be done in this garden-place of the Iroquois and the Illini. You are appointed head gardener for the post!" "Messieurs, me voila" said Jean Breboeuf, drop ping his hands in despair. "Were I not the bravest man in all New France I should leave you at this moment. It is mad, quite mad you are, every one of you! I, Jean Breboeuf, will remain, and, if necessary, will protect. Corn, and perhaps the bean, ye shall have; perhaps even some of those little roots that the savages dig and eat; but, look you, this is but because you are with one who is brave. En-fin, I go. I bend me to the hoe, here in this place, like any peasant." "An excellent hoe can be made from the blade bone of an elk, as the woman Wabana will perhaps show you if you like," said Pierre Noir, derisively, to his comrade of the paddle. MAIZE 205 "Even so," said Jean Brebceuf. "I make me the hoe. Could I have but thee, old Pierre, to sit on a stump and fright the crows away, I make no doubt that all would go well with our husbandry. I had as lief go censitaire for Monsieur L'as as for any seignieur on the Kichelieu; of that be sure, old Pierre." "Faith," replied the latter, "when it comes to frightening crows, I'll even agree to sit on a stump with my musket across my knees and watch you work. 'Tis a good place for a sentinel to keep the crows from picking yet more bones than these which will embarrass you in your hoeing, Jean Breboeuf." "He says the Eichelieu, Du Mesne," broke in John Law, musingly. "Very far away it sounds. I wonder if we shall ever see it again, with its lit tle narrow farms. But here we have our own trails and our own lands, and let us hope that Monsieur Jean shall prosper in his belated farming. And now, for the rest of us, we must look presently to the building of our houses." Thus began, slowly and in primitive fashion, the building of one of the first cities of the vast valley of the Messasebe; the seeds of civiliza tion taking hold upon the ground of barbarism, the one supplanting the other, yet availing itself of 206 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE that other. As the white men took over the crude fields of the departed savages, so also they appro priated the imperfect edifice which the conquerors of those savages had left for them. It was in little the story of old England herself, builded upon the races and the ruins of Briton, and Roman, and Saxon, of Dane and Norman. Under the direction of Law, the walls of the old war house were strengthened with an inner row of palisades, supporting an embankment of earth and stone. The overlap of the gate was extended into a re-entrant angle, and rude battlements were erected at the four corners of the inclosure. The little stream of unfailing water was led through a corner of the fortress. In the center of the in closure they built the houses; a cabin for Law, one for the men, and a larger one to serve as store room and as trading place, should there be opportu nity for trade. It was in these rude quarters that Law and his companion established that which was the nearest approach to a home that either for the time might claim; and it was thus that both undertook once more that old and bootless human experiment of seeking to escape from one's own self. Silent now, and dutifully obedient enough was this erstwhile English beauty, Mary Connynge ; yet often and often MAIZE 207 Law caught the question of her gaze. And often enough, too, he found his own questioning running back up the water trails, and down the lakes and across the wide ocean, in a demand which, fiercer and fiercer as it grew, he yet remained too bitter and too proud to put to the proof by any means now within his power. Strange enough, savage enough, hopeless enough, was this wild home of his in the wilderness of the Messasebe. The smoke of the new settlement rose steadily day by day, but it gave signal for no watching enemy. All about stretched the pale green ocean of the grasses, dotted by many wild flowers, nodding and bowing like bits of fragile flotsam on the sur face of a continually rolling sea. The little groves of timber, scattered here and there, sheltered from the summer sun the wild cattle of the plains. The shorter grasses hid the coveys of the prairie hens, and on the marsh-grown bayou banks the wild duck led her brood. A great land, a rich, a fruitful one, was this that lay about these adven turers. A soberness had come over the habit of the mas ter mind of this little colony. His hand took up the ax, and forgot the sword and gun. Day after day he stood looking about him, examining and studying in little all the strange things which he 208 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE saw; seeking to learn as much as might be of the timorous savages, who in time began to straggle back to their ruined villages; talking, as. best he might, through such interpreting as was possible, with savages who came from the west of the Mes- sasebe, and from the South and from the far South west; hearing, and learning and wondering of a land which seemed as large as all the earth, and various as all the lands that lay beneath the sun that West, so glorious, so new, so boundless, which was yet to be the home of countless hearth-fires and the sites of myriad fields of corn. Let others hunt, and fish, and rob the Indians of their furs, after the accepted fashion of the time; as for John Law, he must look about him, and think, and watch this growing of the corn. He saw it fairly from its beginning, this growth of the maize, this plant which never yet had grown on Scotch or English soil ; this tall, beautiful, broad- bladed, tender tree, the very emblem of all fruit- fulness. He saw here and there, dropped by the careless hand of some departed Indian woman, the little germinating seeds, just thrusting their pale- green heads up through the soil, half broken by the tomahawk. He saw the clustering green shoots numerous, in the sign of plenty all crowding to gether and clamoring for light, and life, and air, MAIZE 209 and room. He saw the prevailing of the tall and strong ttpthrusting stalks, after the way of life; saw the others dwarf and whiten, and yet cling on at the base of the bolder stem, parasites, worthless, yet existing, after the way of life. . , He saw the great central stalks spring boldly up, so swiftly that it almost seemed possible to count the successive leaps of progress. He saw the strong- ribbed leaves thrown out, waving a thousand hands of cheerful welcome and assurance these blades of the corn, so much mightier than any blades of steel. He saw the broad beckoning banners of the pale tas sels bursting out atop of the stalk, token of fecundity and of the future. He caught the wide-driven pollen as it whitened upon the earth, borne by the parent West Wind, mother of increase. He saw the thicken ing of the green leaf at the base, its swelling, its growth and expansion, till the indefinite enlarge ment showed at length the incipient ear. He noted the faint brown of the ends of the sweetly-enveloping silk of the ear, pale-green and soft underneath the sheltering and protecting husk. He found the sweet and milk-white tender kernels, row upon row, forming rapidly beneath the husk, and saw at length the hardening and darkening of the husk at its free end, which told that man might pluck and eat. 210 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE And then he saw the fading of the tassels, the dark ening of the silk and the crinkling of the blades; and there, borne on the strong parent stem, he noted now the many full-rowed ears, protected by their husks and heralded by the tassels and the blades. "Come, come ye, all ye people! Enter in, for I will feed ye all!" This was the song of the maize, its invitation, its counsel, its promise. Under the warped lodge frames which the fires of the Iroquois had spared, there were yet visible clusters of the ears of last year's corn. Here, under his own eye, were growing yet other ears, ripe for the harvesting and ripe for the coming growth. A strange spell fell upon the soul of Law. Visions crossed his mind, born in the soft warm air of these fecundating winds, of this strange yet peaceful scene. At times he stood and looked out from the door of the palisade, when the prairie mists were rising in the morning at the mandate of the sun, and to his eyes these waving seas of grasses all seemed beckoning fields of corn. These smokes, coming from the broken tepees of the timid tribesmen, surely they arose from the roofs of happy and contented homes! These wreaths and wraiths of the twisting and wide-stalking mists, surely these were the cap tains of a general husbandry ! Ah, John Law, John MAIZE 211 Law! Had God given thee the right feeling and contented heart, happy indeed had been these days in this new land of thine own, far from ignoble strivings and from fevered dreams, far from aim less struggles and unregulated avarice, far from oppression and from misery, far from bickerings, heart-burnings and envyings ! Ah, John Law ! Had God but given thee the pure and well-contented heart ! For here in the Messasebe, that Mind which made the universe and set man to be one of its little inhabitants surely that Mind had planned that man should come and grow in this place, tall and strong, and fruitful, useful to all the world, even as this swift, strong growing of the maize. CHAPTER VII THE BRINK OF CHANGE The breath of autumn came into the air. The little flowers which had dotted the grassy robe of the rolling hills had long since faded away under the ardent sun, and now there appeared only the de nuded stalks of the mulleins and the flaunting ban ners of the goldenrod. The wild grouse shrank from the edges of the little fields and joined their numbers into general bands, which night and morn crossed the country on sustained and strong-winged flight. The plumage of the young wild turkeys, stalking in droves among the open groves, began to emulate the iridescent splendors of their elders. The marshes above the village became the home of yet more numerous thousands of clamoring wild fowl, and high up against the blue there passed, on the south-bound journey, the harrow of the wild geese, wending their way from North to South across an unknown empire. A chill came into the waters of the river, so that the bass and pike sought out the deeper pools. The (212) THE BEINK OF CHANGE 213 squirrels busily hoarded up supplies of the nuts now ripening. The antlers of the deer and the elk which emerged from the concealing thickets now showed no longer ragged strips of velvet, and their tips were polished in the preliminary fitting for the fall season of love and combat. There came nights when the white frost hung heavy upon all the bending grasses and the broad-leafed plants, a frost which seared the maize leaves and set aflame the foliage of the maples all along the streams, and decked in a hun dred flamboyant tones the leaves of the sumach and all the climbing vines. As all things now presaged the coming winter, so there approached also the time when the little party, so long companions upon the Western trails, must for the first time know division. Du Mesne, making ready for the return trip over the unknown waterways back to the Lakes, as had been deter mined to be necessary, spoke of it as though the journey were but an affair of every day. "Make no doubt, Monsieur I/as," said he, "that I shall ascend this river of the Illini and reach Michiganon well before the snows. Once at the mission of the Miamis, or the village at the river Chicaqua, I shall be quite safe for the winter, if I decide not to go farther on. Then, in the spring, I make no doubt, I shall be able to trade our furs 214 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE at the Straits, if I like not the long run down to the Mountain. Thus, you see, I may be with you again sometime within the following spring." "I hope it may be so, my friend," replied Law, "for I shall miss you sadly enough." "'Tis nothing, Monsieur; you will be well occu pied. Suppose I take with me Kataikini and Kabayan, perhaps also Tete Gris. That will give us four paddlers for the big canoe, and you will still have left Pierre Noir and Jean, to say nothing of our friends the Illini hereabout, who will be glad enough to make cause with you in case of need. I will leave Wabana for madame, and trust she may prove of service. See to it, pray you, that she observes the offices of the church; for methinks, un less watched, Wabana is disposed to become careless and un-Christianized." "This I will look to," said Law, smiling. "Then all is well," resumed Du Mesne, "and my absence will be but a little thing, as we measure it on the trails. You may find a winter alone in the wilderness a bit dull for you, mayhap duller than were it in London, or even in Quebec. Yet 'twill pass, and in time we shall meet again. Per haps some good father will be wishing to come back with me to set up a mission among the Illini. These good fathers, they so delight in losing fin- THE BRINK OF CHANGE 215 gers, and ears, and noses for the good of the Church though where the Church be glorified therein I sometimes can not say. Perhaps some leech may hap some artisan " "Nay, 'tis too far a spot, Du Mesne, to tempt others than ourselves." "Upon the contrary rather, Monsieur I/as. It is matter for laughter to see the efforts of Louis and his ministers to keep New France chained to the St. Lawrence! Yet my good lord governor might as well puff out his cheeks against the north wind as to try to keep New France from pouring west into the Messasebe; and as much might be said for those good rulers of the English colonies, who are seeking ever to keep their people east of the Alleghanies." "'Tis the Old World over again, there in the St. Lawrence," said Law. "Right you are, Monsieur L'as," exclaimed Du Mesne. "New France is but an extension of the family of Louis. The intendant reports everything to the king. Monsieur So-and-so is married. Very well, the king must know it! Monsieur's eldest daughter is making sheep's eyes at such and such a soldier of the regiment of the king. Very well, this is weighty matter, of which the king must be advised! Monsieur's wife becomes expectant of a 216 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE son and heir. 'Tis meet that Louis the Great should be advised of this ! Mother of God ! 'Tis a pretty mess enough back there on the St. Lawrence, where not a hen may cackle over its new-laid egg but the king must know it, and where not a family has meat enough for its children to eat nor clothes enough to cover them. My faith, in that poor med ley of little lords and lazy vassals, how can you wonder that the best of us have risen and taken to the woods! Yet 'tis we who catch their beaver for them; and if God and the king be willing, some time we shall get a certain price for our beaver provided God and the king furnish currency to pay us; and that the governor, the priest and the intendant ratify the acts of God and the king!" Law smiled at the sturdy vehemence of the other's speech, yet there was something of soberness in his own reply. "Sir," said he, "you see here my little crooked rows of maize. Look you, the beaver will pass away, but the roots of the corn will never be torn out. Here is your wealth, Du Mesne." The sturdy captain scratched his head. "I only know, for my part," said he, "that I do not care for the settlements. Not that I would not be glad to see the king extend his arm farther to the West, for these sullen English are crowding us more THE BKINK OP CHANGE 217 and more along our borders. Surely the land be longs to him who finds it." "Perhaps better to him who can both find and hold it. But this soil will one day raise up a people of its own." "Yet as to thai," rejoined Du Mesne, as the two turned and walked back to the stockade, "we are not here to handle the affairs of either Louis or William. Let us e'en leave that to monsieur the intendant, and monsieur the governor, and our friends, the gray owls and the black crows, the Recollets and the Jesuits. I mind to call this spot home with you, if you like. I shall be back as soon as may be with the things we need, and we shall plant here no starving colony, but one good enough for the home of any man. Monsieur, I wish you very well, and I may congratulate you on your daughter. A heartier infant never was born any where on the water trail between the Mountain and the Messasebe. What name have you chosen for the young lady, Monsieur ?" "I have decided," said John Law, "to call her Catharine." CHAPTER VIII TOUS SAUVAGES Had nature indeed intended Law for the wild life of the trail, and had he indeed spent years rather than months among these unusual scenes, he could hardly have been hetter fitted for the part. Hardy of limb, keen of eye, tireless of foot, with a hand which any weapon fitted, his success as hunter made his companions willing enough to assign to him the chase of the bison or the stag ; so that he became not only patron but provider for the camp. Some weeks after the departure of Du Mesne, Law was returning from the hunt some miles below the station. His tall and powerful figure, hardened by continued outdoor exercise, was scarce bowed by the weight of the wild buck which he bore across his shoulders. His eye, accustomed to the instant readi ness demanded in the voyageur^s life, glanced keenly about, taking in each item of the scene, each move ment of the little bird on the tree, the rustling of the grass where a rabbit started from its form, (218) TOUS SAUVAGES 219 the whisk of the gray squirrel's tail on the limb far overhead. The touch of autumn was now in the air. The leaves of the wild grapevine were falling. The oaks had donned garments of somber brown, the hicko ries had lost their leaves, while here and there along the river shores the flaming sentinels of the maples had changed their scarlet uniform for one of duller hue. The wild rice in the marshes had shed its grain upon the mud banks. The acorns were loosening in their cups. Fall in the West, gorgeous, beautiful, had now set in, of all the sea sons of the year, that most loved by the huntsman. This tall, lean man, clad in buckskin like a sav age, brown almost as a savage, as active and as alert, seemed to fit not ill with these environments, nor to lack either confidence or contentment. He walked on steadily, following the path along the bayou bank, and at length paused for a moment, throwing down his burden and stooping to drink at the tiny pool made by the little rivulet which trickled down the face of the bluff. Here he bathed his face and hands in the cool stream, for the moment abandoning himself to that rest which the hunter earns. It was when at length he raised his head and turned to resume his burden that his sus picious eye caught a glimpse of something which 220 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE sent him in a flash below the level of the grasses, and thence to the cover of a tree trunk. As he gazed from his hiding-place he saw the tawny waters of the hayou broken into a long se ries of advancing ripples. Passing the fringe of wild rice, swimming down beneath the heavy cord age of the wild grapevines, there came on two canoes, roughly made of elm bark, in fashion which would have shown an older frontiersman full proof of their Western origin. In the bow of the foremost boat, as Law could now clearly see, sat a slender young man, clad in the uniform, now soiled and faded, of a captain in the British army. His boat was propelled by four dusky paddlers, Indians of the East. Stalwart, powerful, silent, they sent the craft on down stream, their keen eyes glancing swiftly from one point to the other of the ever-changing panorama, yet finding nothing that would seem to warrant pause. Back of the first boat by a short distance came a kindred craft, its crew comprising two white men and two Indian paddlers. Of the white men, one might have been a petty officer, the other perhaps a private soldier. It was, then, as Du Mesne had said. Every party bound into the West must pass this very point upon the river of the Illini. But why should these be / TOUS SAUVAGES 221 present here? Were they friends or foes? So queried the watcher, tense and eager as a waiting panther, now crouched with straining eye behind the sheltering tree. As the leading hoat swung clear of the shadows, the man in the prow turned his face, scanning closely the shore of the stream. As he did so, Law half started to his feet, and a moment later stepped from his concealment. He gazed again and again, doubting what he saw. Surely those clean-cut, handsome features could belong to no man but his former friend, Sir Arthur Pembroke! Yet how could Sir Arthur be here? What could be his errand, and how had he been guided hither? These sudden questions might, upon the instant, have confused a brain ready as that of this observer, who paused not to reflect that this meeting, seem ingly so impossible, was in fact the most natural thing in the world; indeed, could scarce have been avoided by any one traveling with Indian guides down the waterway to the Messasebe. The keen eyes of the red paddlers caught sight of the crushed grasses at the little landing on the bayou bank, even as Law rose from his hiding- place. A swift, concerted sweep of the paddles sent the boat circling out into midstream, and before Law knew it he was covered by half a dozen guns. 222 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE He hardly noticed this. His own gun he left lean ing against a tree, and his hand was thrown out high in front of him as he came on, calling out to those in the stream. He heard the command of the leader in the boat, and a moment later both canoes swung inshore. "Have down your guns, Sir Arthur," cried Law, loudly and gaily. "We are none but friends here. Come in, and tell me that it is yourself, and not some miracle of mine eyes." The young man so surprisingly addressed half started from the thwart in his amazement. His face bent into an incredulous frown, scarce car rying comprehension, even as he approached the shore. As he left the boat, for an instant Pembroke's hand was half extended in greeting, yet a swift change came over his countenance, and his body stif fened. "Is it indeed you, Mr. Law?" he said. "I could not have believed myself so fortunate." "'Tis myself and no one else," replied Law. "But why this melodrama, Sir Arthur? Why re ject my hand?" "I have sworn to extend to you no hand but that bearing a weapon, Mr. Law !" said Pembroke. "This may be accident, but it seems to me the justice of God. Oh, you have run far, Mr. Law " .TOUS SAUVAGES 223 "What mean you, Sir Arthur?" exclaimed Law, his face assuming the dull red of anger. "I have gone where I pleased, and asked no man's leave for it, and I shall live as I please and ask no man's leave for that. I admit that it seems almost a miracle to meet you here, but come you one way or the other, you come best without riddles, and still better without threats." "You are not armed," said Sir Arthur. He gazed at the bronzed figure before him, clad in fringed tunic and leggings of deer hide; at the belt with little knife and ax, at the gun which now rested in the hollow of his arm. Law himself laughed keenly. "Why, as to that," said he, "I had thought my self well enough equipped. But as for a sword, 'tis true my hand is more familiar, these days, with the ax and gun." "The late Jessamy Law shows change in his ca pacity of renegade," said Pembroke, raspingly. His face displayed a scorn which jumped ill with the nature of the man before him. "I am what I am, Sir Arthur," said Law, "and what I was. And always I am at any man's service who is in search of what you call God's justice, or what I may call personal satisfaction. I doubt not we shall find my other trinkets in good order 224 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE not far away. But meantime, before you turn my hospitality into shame, bring on your men and fol low me." His face working with emotion, Law turned away. He caught up the body of the dead buck, and tossing it across his shoulders, strode up the winding path way. "Come, Gray, and Ellsworth," said Pembroke. "Get your men together. We shall see what there is to this." At the summit of the river-bluff Law awaited their arrival. He noted in silence the look of sur prise which crossed Pembroke's face as at length they came into view of the little panorama of the stockade and its surroundings. "This is my home, Sir Arthur," said he simply. "These are my fields. And see, if I mistake not, yonder is some proof of the ability of my people to care for themselves." He pointed to the gateway, from the loop-holes guarding which there might now be seen protruding two long dark barrels, leveled in the direction of the approaching party. There came a call from within the palisade, and the sound of men running to take their places along the wall. Law raised his hand, and the barrels of the guns were lowered. TOUS SAUVAGES 225 "This, then, is your hiding-place I" said Pem broke. "I call it not such. 'Tis public to the world." "Tush! You lack not in the least of your old conceit and assurance, Mr. Law !" said Pembroke. "Nay, I lack not so much in assurance of my self," said Law, "as in my patience, which I find, Sir Arthur, now begins to grow a bit short about its breath. But since the courtesy of the trail de mands somewhat, I say to you, there is my home. Enter it as friend if you like, but if not, come as you please. Did you indeed come bearing war, I should be obliged to signify to you, Sir Arthur, that you are my prisoner. You see my people." "Sir," replied Sir Arthur, blindly, "I have vowed to find you no matter where you should go." "It would seem that your vow is well fulfilled. But now, since you deal in mysteries, I shall even ask you definitely, Sir Arthur, who and what are you? Why do you come hither, and how shall we. regard you?" "I am, in the first place," said Sir Arthur, "mes senger of my Lord Bellomont, governor at Albany of our English colonies. I add my chief errand, which has been to find Mr. Law, whom I would hold to an accounting." 226 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE "Oh, granted/' replied Law, flicking lightly at the cuff of his tunic, "yet your errand still carries mystery." "You have at least heard of the Peace of Eys- wick, I presume?" "No ; how should I ? And why should I care ?" "None the less, the king of England and the king of France are no longer at war, nor are their colonies this side of the water. There are to be no more raids between the colonies of New England and New France. The Hurons are to give back their English prisoners, and the Iroquois are to re turn all their captives to the French. The Western tribes are to render up their prisoners also, be they French, English, Huron or Iroquois. The errand of carrying this news was offered to me. It agreed well enough with my own private purposes. I had tracked you, Mr. Law, to Montreal, lost you on the Richelieu, and was glad enough to take up this chance of finding you farther to the West. And now, by the justice of heaven, as I have said, I have found you easily." "And has Sir Arthur gone to sheriff ing? Has my friend become constable? Is Sir Arthur a spy? Because, look you, this is not London, nor yet New France, nor Albany. This is Messasebe! This is my valley. I rule here. Now, if kings, or consta- TOUS SAUVAGES 227 bles, or even spies, wish to find John Law why, here is John Law. Now watch your people, and go you carefully here, else that may follow which will be ill extinguished." Pembroke flung down his sword upon the ground in front of him. "You are lucky, Mr. Law," said he, "lucky as ever. But surely, never was man so eminently de serving of death as yourself." "You do me very much honor, Sir Arthur," re plied Law. "Here is your sword, sir." Stooping, he picked it up and handed it to the other. "I did but ill if I refused to accord satisfaction to one bringing me such speech as that. 'Tis well you wear your weapons, Sir Arthur, since you come thus as emissary of the Great Peace! I know you for a gentleman, and I shall ask no parole of you to night; but meantime, let us wait until to-morrow, when I promise you I shall be eager as yourself. Come ! We can stand here guessing and talking no longer. I am weary of it." They came now to the gate of the stockade, and there Pembroke stood for a moment in surprise and perplexity. He was not prepared to meet this dark- haired, wide-eyed girl, clad in native dress of skin, with tinkling metals at wrist and ankle, and on her feet the tiny, beaded shoes. For her part, Mary 228 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE Connynge, filled with woman's curiosity, was yet less prepared for that which appeared before her an apparition, as ran her first thought, come to threaten and affright. "Sir Arthur!" she began, her trembling tongue but half forming the words. Her eyes stared in terror, and beneath her dark skin the blood shrank away and left her pale. She recoiled from him, her left hand carrying behind her instinctively the babe that lay on her arm. Sir Arthur bowed, but found no word. He could only look questioningly at Law. "Madam," said the latter, "Sir Arthur Pembroke journeys through as the messenger of Lord Bello- mont, governor at Albany, to spread peace among the Western tribes. He has by mere chance blun dered upon our valley, and will delay over night. It seemed well you should be advised." Mary Connynge, gray and pale, haggard and hor rified, dreading all things and knowing nothing, found no manner of reply. Without a word she turned and fled back into the cabin. Sir Arthur once more looked about him. Motion ing to the others of the party to remain outside the gate, Law led him within the stockade. On one hand stood Pierre Noir, tall, silent, impassive as a savage, leaning upon his gun and fixing on TOUS SAUVAGES 229 the red coat of the English uniform an eye none too friendly. Jean Brebceuf, his piece half ready and his voluble tongue half on the point of break ing over restraint, Law quieted with a gesture. Back of these, ranged in a silent yet watchful group, their weapons well in hand, stood numbers of the savage allies of this new war-lord. Pembroke turned to Law again. "You are strongly stationed, sir; but I do not understand." "It is my home." "But yet why?" "As well this as any, where one leaves an old life and begins a new," said Law. "'Tis as good a place as any if one would leave all behind, and if he would forget." "And this that is to say madam?" Sir Arthur stumbled in his speech. John Law looked him straight in the eye, a slow, sad smile upon his face. "Had we here the plank of poor La Salle his ship," said he, "we might nail the message of that other renegade above our. door 'Nous sommes tons sauvages!'" CHAPTEK IX THE DEEAM That night John Law dreamed as he slept, and it was in some form the same haunting and fa miliar dream. In his vision he saw not the low roof nor the rude walls about him. To his mind there appeared a little dingy room, smaller than this in which he lay, with walls of stone, with door of iron grating and not of rough-hewn slabs. He saw the door of the prison cell swing open; saw near it the figure of a noble young girl, with large and frightened eyes and lips half tremulous. To this vision he outstretched his hands. He was almost conscious of uttering some word supplicatingly, al most conscious of uttering a name. Perhaps he slept on. .We little know the ways of the land of dreams. It might have been half an instant or half an hour later that he sud denly awoke, finding his hand clapped close against his side, where suddenly there had come a sharp and burning pain. His own hand struck another. He saw something gleaming in the light of the (230) THE DREAM 231 flickering fire which still survived upon the hearth. The dim rays lit up two green, glowing, venomous balls, the eyes of the woman whom he found bending above him. He reached out his hand in the instinct of safety. This which glittered in the firelight was the blade of a knife, and it was in the hand of Mary Connynge ! In a moment Law was master of himself. "Give it to me, Madam, if you please," he said, quietly, and took the knife from fingers which loosened un der his grasp. There was no further word spoken. He tossed the knife into a crack of the bunk be yond him. He lay with his right arm doubled under his head, looking up steadily into the low ceiling, upon which the fire made ragged masses of shad ows. His left arm, round, full and muscular, lay across the figure of the woman whom he had forced down upon the couch beside him. He could feel her bosom rise and pant in sheer' sobs of anger. Once he felt the writhing of the body beneath his arm, but he simply tightened his grasp and spoke no word. It was not far from morning. In time the gray dawn came creeping in at the window, until at length the chinks between the logs in the little square-cut window and the ill-fitting door were flooded with a sea of sunlight. As this light grew 232 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE stronger, Law slowly turned and looked at the face beside him. Out of the tangle of dark hair there blazed still two eyes, eyes which looked steadily up at the ceiling, refusing to turn either to the right or to the left. He calmly pulled closer to him, so that it might not stain the garments of the woman beside him, the blood-soaked shirt whose looseness and lack of definition had perhaps saved him from a fatal blow. He paid no attention, to his wound, which he knew was nothing serious. So he lay and looked at Mary Connynge, and finally removed his arm. "Get up," said he, simply, and the woman obeyed him. "The fire, Madam, if you please, and breakfast." These had been the duties of the Indian woman, but Mary Connynge obeyed. "Madam," said Law, calmly, after the morning meal was at last finished in silence, "I shall be very glad to have your company for a few moments, if you please." Mary Connynge rose and followed him into the open air, her eyes still fixed upon the dark-crusted stain which had spread upon his tunic. They walked in silence to a point beyond the cabin. "You would call her Catharine 1" burst put Mary THE DEEAM 233 Connynge. "Oh! I heard you in your very sleep. You believe every lying word Sir Arthur tells you. You believe " John Law looked at her with the simple and di rect gaze which the tamer of the wild beast employs when he goes among them, the look of a man not afraid of any living thing. "Madam," said he, at length', calmly and evenly, as before, "what I have said, sleeping or waking, will not matter. You have tried to kill me. You did not succeed. You will never try again. Now, Madam, I give you the privilege of kneeling here on the ground before me, and asking of me, not my pardon, but the pardon of the woman you have foully stabbed, even as you have me/' The figure before him straightened up, the blaz ing yellow eyes sought his once, twice, thrice, behind them all the fury of a savage soul. It was of no avail. The cool blue eyes looked straight into her heart. The tall figure stood before her, unyielding. She sought to raise her eyes once more, failed, and so would have sunk down as he had said, actually on her knees before him. John Law extended a hand and stopped her. "There," said he. "It will suffice. I can not de mean you. There is the child." 234 "You called her Catharine !" broke out the woman once more in her ungovernable rage. "You would name my child " . "Madam, get up!" said John Law, sharply and sternly. "Get up on your feet and look me in the face. The child shall be called for her who should have been its mother. Let those forgive who can. That you have ruined my life for me is but perhaps a fair exchange; yet you shall say no word against that woman whose life we have both of us de spoiled." CHAPTER X BY THE HILT OF THE SWORD Law passed on out at the gate of the stockade and down to the bivouac, where Pembroke and his men had spent the night. "Now, Sir Arthur," said he to the latter, when he had found him, "come. I am ready to talk with you. Let us go apart." Pembroke joined him, and the two walked slowly away toward the encircling wood which swept back of the stockade. Law turned upon him at length squarely. "Sir Arthur," said he, "I think you would tell me something concerned with the Lady Catharine Knol- lys. Do you bring any message from her?" The face of Pembroke flamed scarlet with sudden wrath. "Message!" said he. "Message from Lady Catharine Knollys to you? By God! sir, her only message could be her hope that she might never hear your name again." "You have still your temper, Sir Arthur, and you speak harsh enough." (235) 236 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE "Harsh or not," rejoined Pembroke, "I scarce can endure her name upon your lips. You, who scouted her, who left her, who took up with the lewdest woman in all Great Britain, as it now appears you who would consort with this creature " "In this matter/* said John Law, simply, "you are not my prisoner, and I beg you to speak frankly. It shall be man and man between us." "How you could have stooped to such baseness is what mortal man can never understand/' re sumed Sir Arthur, bitterly. "Good God! to aban don a woman like that so heartlessly " "Sir Arthur/' said John Law, his voice trem bling, "I do myself the very great pleasure of tell ing you that you lie I" For a moment the two stood silent, facing each other, the face of each stony, gone gray with the emotions back of it. "There is light," said Pembroke, "and abundant space." They turned and paced back farther toward the open forest glade. Yet now and again their steps faltered and half paused, and neither man cared to go forward or to return. Pembroke's face, stern as it had been, again took on the imprint of a growing hesitation. "Mr. Law," said he, "there is something in your attitude which I admit puzzles me. I ask you in all honor, I ask you on the hilt of that sword which I know you will never disgrace, why did you thus flout the Lady Catharine Knollys? Why did you scorn her and take up with this woman yonder in her stead?" "Sir Arthur," said John Law, with trembling lips, "I must be very low indeed in reputation, since you can ask me question such as this." "But you must answer!" cried Sir Arthur, "and you must swear !" "If you would have my answer and my oath, then I give you both. I did not do what you suggest, nor can I conceive how any man should think me guilty of it. I loved Lady Catharine Knollys with all my heart. 'Twas my chief bitterness, keener than even the thought of the gallows itself, that she forsook me in my trouble. Then, bitter as any man would be, I persuaded myself that I cared naught. Then came this other woman. Then I well, I was a man and a fool a fool, Sir Arthur, a most miserable fool! Every moment of my life since first I saw her, I have loved the Lady Catha rine ; and, God help me, I do now !" Sir Arthur struck his hand upon the hilt of his 238 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE sword. "You were more lucky than myself, as I know," said he, and from his lips broke half a groan. "Good God !" broke out Law. "Let us not talk of it. I give you my word of honor, there has been no happiness to this. But come! We waste time. Let us cross swords !" "Wait. Let me explain, since we are in the way of it. You must know that 'twas within the plans of Montague that Lady Catharine Knollys should be the agent of your freedom. I was pledged to the Lady Catharine to assist her, though, as you may perhaps see, sir," and Pembroke gulped in his throat as he spoke, " 'twas difficult enough, this part that was assigned to me. It was I, Mr. Law, who drove the coach to the gate, the coach which brought the Lady Catharine. 'Twas she who opened the door of Newgate jail for you. My God! sir, how" could you walk past that woman, coming there as she did, with such a purpose!" 'At hearing these words, the tall figure of the man opposed to him drooped and sank, as though under some fearful blow. He staggered to a near by support and sank weakly to a seat, his head falling between his hands, his whole face convulsed. "Ah!" said he, "you did right to cross seas in search of me ! God hath indeed found me out and BY THE HILT OF THE SWORD 239 given me my punishment. Yet I ask God to bear me witness that I knew not the truth. Come, Sir Arthur ! Come, I beseech you ! Let us fall to !" "I shall be no man's executioner for his sentence on himself. I could not fight you now." His eye fell by chance upon the blotch in Law's blood stained tunic. "And here," he said; "see! You are already wounded." " 'Twas but one woman's way of showing her regard," said Law. " 'Twas Mary Connynge stabbed me." "But why?" "Nay, I am glad of it; since it proves the truth of all you say, even as it proves me to be the most unworthy man in all the world. Oh, what had it meant to me to know a real love ! God ! How could I have been so blind ?" " ? Tis the ancient puzzle." "Yes!" cried Law. "And let us make an end of puzzles! Your quarrel, sir, I admit is just. Let us go on." "And again I tell you, Mr. Law," replied Sir Arthur, "that I will not fight you." "Then, sir," said Law, dropping his own sword upon the grass and extending his hand with a broken smile, " 'tis I who am your prisoner !" CHAPTER XI THE IROQUOIS Even as Sir Arthur and John Law clasped hands, there came a sudden interruption. A half-score yards deeper in the wood there arose a sudden, half- choked cry, followed by a shrill whoop. There was a crashing as of one running, and immediately there pressed into the open space the figure of an Indian, an old man from the village of the Illini. Even as his staggering footsteps brought him within gaze, the two startled observers saw the shaft which had sunk deep within his breast. He had been shot through by an Indian arrow, and upon the instant it was all too plain whose hand had sped the shaft. Following close upon his heels there came a stalwart savage, whose face, hideously painted, appeared fairly demoniacal as he came bounding on with uplifted hatchet, seeking to strike down the victim already impaled by the silent arrow. "Quick !" cried Law, in a flash catching the mean ing of this sudden spectacle. "Into the fort, Sir Arthur, and call the men together .!" (240) THE IEOQUOIS 241 Not stopping to relieve the struggles of the vic tim, who had now fallen forward gasping, Law sprang on with drawn blade to meet the advancing savage. The latter paused for an uncertain moment, and then with a shrill yell of defiance, hurled the keen steel hatchet full at Law's head. It shore away a piece of his hat brim, and sank with edge deep buried in the trunk of a tree beyond. The savage turned, but turned too late. The blade of the swordsman passed through from rib to rib under his arm, and he fell choking, even as he sought again to give vent to his war-cry. And now there arose in the woods beyond, and in the fields below the hill, and from the villages of the neighboring Indians, a series of sharp, ululat ing yells. Shots came from within the fortress, where the loop-holes were already manned. There were borne from the nearest wigwams of the Illini the screams of wounded men, the shrieks of terri fied women. In an instant the peaceful spot had become the scene of a horrible confusion. Once more the wolves of the woods, the Iroquois, had fallen on their prey ! Swift as had been Law's movements, Pembroke was but a pace behind him as he wrenched free his blade. The two turned back together and started at speed for the palisade. At the gate they met 242 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE others hurrying in, Pembroke's men joining in the rush of the frightened villagers. Among these the Iroquois pressed with shrill yells, plying knife and bow and hatchet as they ran, and the horrified eyes of those within the palisade saw many a tragedy enacted. "Watch the gate!" cried Pierre Noir, from his station in the corner tower. As he spoke there came a rush of screaming Iroquois, who sought to gain the entrance. "Now!" cried Pierre Noir, discharging his piece into the crowded ranks below him; and shot after shot followed his own. The packed brown mass gave back and resolved itself into scattered units, who broke and ran for the nearest cover. "They will not come on again until dark," said Pierre Noir, calmly leaning his piece against the wall. "Therefore I may attend to certain little mat ters." He passed out into the entry-way, where lay the bodies of three Iroquois, abandoned, under the close and deadly fire, by their companions where they had fallen. When Pierre Noir returned and calmly propped up again the door of slabs which he had re moved, he carried in his hand three tufts of long black hair, from which dripped heavy gouts of blood. THE IROQUOIS 243 "Good God, man!" said Pembroke. "You must not be savage as these Indians !" "Speak for yourself, Monsieur Anglais/' replied Pierre, stoutly. "You need not save these head pieces if you do not care for them. For myself, 'tis part of the trade." "Assuredly," broke in Jean Brebreuf. "We keep these trinkets, we voyageurs of the French. Make no doubt that Jean Breboauf will take back with him full tale of the Indians he has killed. Presently I go out. Zip ! goes my knife, and off comes the topknot of Monsieur Indian, him I killed but now as he ran. Then I shall dry the scalp here by the fire, and mount it on a bit of willow, and take it back for a present to my sweetheart, Susanne Du- chene, on the seignieury at home." "Bravo, Jean!" cried out the old Indian fighter, Pierre Noir, the old baresark rage of the fighting man now rising hot in his blood. "And look! Here come more chances for our little ornaments." Pierre Noir for once had been mistaken and un derestimated the courage of the warriors of the Onondagos. Lashing themselves to fury at the thought of their losses, they came on again, now banding and charging in the open close up to the walls of the palisade. Again the little party of whites maintained a steady fire, and again the Iro- 244 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE quois, baffled and enraged, fell back into the wood, whence they poured volley after volley rattling against the walls of the sturdy fortress. "I am sorry, sir," said Sergeant Gray to Pembroke, "but 'tis all up with me." The poor fellow stag gered against the wall, and in a few moments all was indeed over with him. A chance shot had pierced his chest. "Peste! If this keeps up," said Pierre Noir, "there will not be many of us left by morning. I never saw them fight so well. ? Tis a good watch we'll need this night." In fact, all through the night the Iroquois tried every strategem of their savage warfare. With ear- splitting yells they came close up to the stockade, and in one such charge two or three of their young men even managed to climb to the tops of the pointed stakes, though but to meet their death at the muzzles of the muskets within. Then, there arose curving lines of fire from without the walls, half circles which terminated at last in little jarring thuds, where blazing arrows fell and stood in log, or earth, or unprotected roof. These projectiles, wrapped with lighted birch bark, served as fire brands, and danger enough they carried. Yet, after some fashion, the little garrison kept down these incipient blazes, held together the terrified Illini, THE IROQUOIS 245 repulsed each repeated charge of the Iroquois, and so at last wore through the long and fearful night. The sun was just rising across the tops of the distant groves when the Iroquois made their next advance. It came not in the form of a concerted attack, but of an appeal for peace. A party of the savages left their cover and approached the fortress, waving their hands above their heads. One of them, presently advanced alone. "What is it, Pierre?" asked Law. "What does the fellow want?" "I care not what he wants," said Pierre Noir, carefully adjusting the lock of his piece and steadily regarding the savage as he approached; "but I'll wager you a year's pay he never gets alive past yon der stump." "Stay!" cried Pembroke, catching at the barrel of the leveled gun. "I believe he would talk with us." "What does he say, Pierre?" asked Law. "Speak to him, if you can." "He wants to know," said Pierre, as the messen ger at length stopped and began a harangue, "whether we are English or French. He says something about there being a big peace between Corlaer and Onon- tio; by which he means, gentlemen, the governor at New York and the governor at Quebec." 246 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE "Tell him," cried Pembroke, with a sudden thought, "that I am an officer of Corlaer, and that Corlaer bids the Iroquois to bring in all the pris oners they have taken. Tell him that the French are going to give up all their prisoners to us, and that the Iroquois must leave the war path, or my Lord Bellomont will take the war trail and wipe their villages off the earth." Something in this speech as conveyed to the sav age seemed to give him a certain concern. He re tired, and presently his place was taken by a tall and stately figure, dressed in the full habiliments of an Iroquois chieftain. He came on calmly and proudly, his head erect, and in his extended hand the long-stemmed pipe of peace. Pierre Noir heaved a deep sigh of relief. "Unless my eyes deceive me," said he, "'tis old Teganisoris himself, one of the head men of the Onondagos. If so, there is some hope, for Tegan isoris is wise enough to know when peace is best." It was, indeed, that noted chieftain of the Iroquois who now advanced close up to the wall. Law and Pembroke stepped out to meet him beyond the pali sade, the old voyageur still serving as interpreter from the platform at their back. "He says listen, Messieurs! he says he knows there is going to be a big peace; that the Iroquois THE IKOQUOIS 247 are tired of fighting and that their hearts are sore. He says a most manifest lie, I beg you to observe, Messieurs that he loves the English, and that, although he ought to kill the Frenchmen of our garrison, he will, since some of us are English, and hence his friends, spare us all if we will cease to fight." Pembroke turned to Law with question in his eye. "There must be something done," said the latter in a low tone. "We were short enough of ammuni tion here even before Du Mesne left for the settle ments, and your own men have none too much left." " 'Reflect ! Bethink yourselves, Englishmen !' he says to us," continued Pierre Noir. " 'We came to make war upon the Illini. Our work here is done. 'Tis time now that we went back to our villages. If there is to be a big peace, the Iroquois must be there; for unless the Iroquois demand it, there can be no peace at all/ And, gentlemen, I beg you to remember it is an Iroquois who is talking, and that the truth is not in the tongue of an Iroquois." "'Tis a desperate chance, Mr. Law," said Pem broke. "Yet if we keep up the fight here, there can be but one end." "'Tis true," said Law; "and there are others to be considered." It was hurriedly thus concluded. Law finally 248 advanced toward the tall figure of the Iroquois head man, and looked him straight in the face. "Tell him," said he to Pierre Noir, "that we are all English, and that we are not afraid; and that if we are harmed, the armies of Corlaer will destroy the Iroquois, even as the Iroquois have the Illini. Tell him that we will go back with him to the set tlements because we are willing to go that way upon a journey which we had already planned. We could fight forever if we chose, and he can see for himself by the bodies of his young men how well we are able to make war." "It is well," replied Teganisoris. "You have the word of an Iroquois that this shall be done, as I have said." "The word of an Iroquois!" cried Pierre Noir, slamming down the butt of his musket. "The word of a snake, say rather! Jean Breboeuf, harken you to what our leaders have agreed! We are to go as prisoners of the Iroquois! Mary, Mother of God, what folly! And there is madame, and la pauvre petite, that infant so young. By God! Were it left to me, Pierre Berthier would stand here and fight to the end. I know these Iroquois !" CHAPTER XII PRISONERS OF THE IROQUOIS The faith of the Iroquois was worse than Punic, nor was there lacking swift proof of its real nature. Law and Pembroke, the moment they had led their little garrison beyond the gate, found themselves surrounded by a ring of tomahawks and drawn bows. Their weapons were snatched away from them, and on the instant they found themselves beyond all possibility of that resistance whose giv ing over they now bitterly repented. Teganisoris regarded them with a sardonic smile. "I see you are all English," said he, "though some of you wear blue coats. These we may perhaps adopt into our tribe, for our boys grow up but slowly, and some of the blue coats are good fighters. These dogs of Illini we shall of course burn. As for your war house, you will no longer need it, since you are now friends of the Iroquois, and are going to their villages. You may say to Corlaer that you well know the Iroquois have no prisoners." (249) 250 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE The horrid significance of this threat was all too soon made plain. In an hour the little stockade was but a mass of embers and ashes. In another hour the little valley had become a Gehenna of an guish and lamentations, with whose riot of grief and woe there mingled the savage exultations of a foe whose treachery was but surpassed by his cruelty. Again the planting-ground of the Illini was ut terly laid waste, to mark it naught remaining but trampled grain, and heaps of ashes, and remnants of blackened and incinerated bones. By nightfall the party of prisoners had begun a wild journey through the wilderness, whose horrors surpassed any they had supposed to be humanly endurable. Day after day, week after week, for more than a month, and much of the time in winter weather, they toiled on, part of the way by boat, the remainder of the journey on foot, crossing snow-clogged forest, and tangled thicket and frozen morass, yet daring not to drop out for rest, since to lag might mean to die. It was as though after some frightful nightmare of suffering and despair that at length they reached the villages of the Five Nations, located far to the east, at the foot of the great waterway which Law and his family had ascended more than a year before. Yet if that which had gone before seemed like PKISONEKS OF THE IROQTJOIS 251 some bitter dream, surely the day of awakening promised but little better hope. From village to village, footsore and ill, they were hurried without rest, at each new stopping place the central figures of a barbarous triumph; and nowhere did they meet the representatives of either the French or the English government, whose expected presence had constituted their one ground of hope. "Where is your big peace?" asked Teganisoris of Pembroke. "Where are the head men of Cor- laer? Who brings presents to the Iroquois, and who is to tell us that Onontio has carried the pipe of peace to Corlaer? Here are our villages as when we left them, and here again are we, save for the absent ones who have been killed by your young men. It is no wonder that my people are dis pleased." Indeed those of the Iroquois who had remained at home clamored continually that some of the pris oners should be given over to them. Thus, in doubt, uncertainty and terror the party passed through the villages, moving always eastward, until at length they arrived at the fortified town where Teganisoris made his home, a spot toward the foot of Lake Ontario, and not widely removed from that stupen dous cataract which, from the beginning of earth, 252 had uplifted its thunderous diapason here in the savage wilderness Ontoneagrea, object of supersti tious awe among all the tribes. Time hung heavy on the hands of the savages. , It was winter, and the parties had all returned from the war trails. The mutterings arose yet more loudly among families who had lost most heavily in these Western expeditions. The shrewd mind of Teganisoris knew that some new thing must be planned. He announced his decision at his own village, after the triumphal progress among the tribes had at length been concluded. "Since they have sent us no presents," said he, with that daring diplomacy which made him a leader in red statesmanship, "let those who stayed at home be given some prisoner in pay for those of their people who have been killed. Moreover, let us offer to the Great Spirit some sacrifice in propitiation; since surely the Great Spirit is offended." Such was the conclusion of this head man of the Ononda- gos, and fateful enough it was to the prisoners. The great gorge through which poured the vast waters of the Northern seas was a spot not always visited by those passing up the Great Lakes for the Western stations, nor down the Lakes to the settle ments of the St. Lawrence. Yet there was a trail which led around the great cataract, and the occa- PKISOKERS OF THE IROQUOIS 253 sional coureurs de lots, or the passing friars, or the adventurous merchants of the lower settlements now and again left that trail, and, came to look upon the tremendous scene of the great falling of the waters. Here where the tumult ascended up to heaven, and where the white-blown wreaths of mist might in deed, even in an imagination better than that of a savage, have been construed into actual forms of spirits, the Indians had, from time immemorial, made their offerings to the genius of the cataract strips of rude cloth, the skin of the beaver and the otter, baskets woven of sweet grasses, and, after the advent of the white man, pieces of metal or strings of precious beads. Such valued things as these were in rude adoration placed upon rocks or uplifted scaffolds near to the brink of the abyss. This was the spot most commonly chosen by the medicine man in the pursuit of his incantations. It was the church, the wild and savage cathedral of the red men. ' Following now the command of their chieftain, the Iroquois left their stationary lodges and moved in a body, pitching a temporary camp at a spot not far from the Falls. Here, in a great council lodge, the older men sat in deliberation for a full day and night. The dull drum sounded continu ally, the council pipe went round, and the war- 254 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE riors besought the spirits to give them knowledge. The savage hysteria, little by little, yet steadily, arose higher and higher, until at length it reached that point of frenzy where naught could suffice save some terrible, some tremendous thing. Enforced spectators of these curious and ominous ceremonies, the prisoners looked on, wondering, imagining, hesitating and fearing. "Monsieur," said Pierre Noir, turning at last to Law, "it grieves me to speak, yet 'tis best for you to know the truth. It is to be you or Monsieur Pembroke. They will not have me. They say that it must be one of you two great chiefs, for that you were brave, your hearts were strong, and that hence you would find favor as the adopted child of the Great Spirit who has been offended." Law looked at Pembroke, and they both regarded Mary Connynge and the babe. "At least," said Law, "they spare the woman and the child. So far very well. Sir Arthur, we are at the last hazard." "I have asked them to take me," said Pierre ISToir, "for I am an old man and have no family. But they will not listen to me." Pembroke passed his hand wearily across his face. "I have behind me so long a memory of suffering," said he, "and before me so small an amount of promise, that for myself I am content to let it end. PRISONERS OF THE IROQUOIS 255 It comes to all sooner or later, according to our fate." "You speak," said Law, "as though it were deter mined. Yet Pierre says it will not be both of us, but one." Pembroke smiled sadly. "Why, sir," said he, "do you think me so sorry a fellow as that? Look!" and he pointed to Mary Connynge and the child. "There is your duty." Law followed his gaze, and his look was returned dumbly by the woman who had played so strange a part in the late passages of his life. Never a word with her had Law spoken regarding his plans or concerning what he had learned from Pembroke. As to this, Mary Connynge had been afraid to ask, nor dare ask even now. "Besides," went on Pembroke later, as he called Law aside, "there is something to be done not here, but over there, in England, or in France. Your duty is involved not only with this woman. You must find sometime the other woman. You must see the Lady Catharine Knollys." Law sunk his head between his hands and groaned bitterly. "Go you rather," said he, "and spend your life for her. I choose that it should end at once, and here." 250 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE "I have not been wont to call Mr. Law a coward/' said Pembroke, simply. "I should be a coward if I should stand aside and allow you to sacrifice yourself; nor shall I do so/' replied the other. "They say/' broke in Pierre Noir, who had been listening to the excited harangues of first one war rior and then another, "that both warriors are great chiefs, and that both should go together. Tegan- isoris insists that only one shall be offered. This last has been almost agreed; but which one of you 'tis to be has not yet been determined." Dawn came through the narrow door and open roof holes of the lodge. The rising of the sun seemed to bring conviction to the Iroquois. All at once the savage council broke up and scattered into groups, which hurried to different parts of the vil lage. Presently these reappeared at the central lodge. There sounded a concerted savage chant. A ragged column appeared, whose head was faced toward the cataract. There were those who bore strings of beads and strips of fur, even the prized treasures of the tufted scalp locks, whose tresses, combed smooth, were adorned with colored cloth and feathers. Pierre Noir was silent; yet, as the captives looked, PRISONERS OF THE IROQUOIS 257 they needed no advice that the sacrificial proces sion was now forming. "They said," began Pierre Noir, at length, with trembling voice, turning his eyes aside as he spoke, "that it could not be myself, that it must be one of you, and but one. They are going to cast lots for it. It is Teganisoris who has proposed that the lots shall be thrown by " Pierre Noir faltered, unwilling to go on. "And by whom ?" asked Law, quietly. "By by the woman by madame !" CHAPTER XIII THE SACRIFICE There was sometimes practised among the Iro- quois a game which bore a certain resemblance to the casting of dice, as the latter is known among civilized peoples. The method of the play was sim ple. Two oblong polished bones, of the bigness of a man's finger, were used as the dice. The ends of these were ground thin and were rudely polished. One of the dice was stained red, the other left white. The players in the game marked out a line on the hard ground, and then each in turn cast up the two dice into the air, throwing them from some recep tacle. The game was determined by the falling of the red bone, he who cast this colored bone closer to the line upon the ground being declared the winner. The game was simple, and depended much upon chance. If the red die fell flat upon its face at a point near to the line, it was apt to lie close to the spot where it dropped. On the other hand, did it alight upon either end, it might bound back (258) THE SACRIFICE 259 and fall at some little distance upon one side of the line. It was this game which, in horrible fashion, Te- ganisoris now proposed to play. He offered to the clamoring medicine man and his ferocious disci ples one of these captives, whose death should ap pease not only the offended Great Spirit, but also the unsated vengeance of the tribe. He offered, at the same time, the spectacle of a play in which a human life should be the stake. He used as practical executioner the woman who was possessed by one of them, and who, in the crude notions of the savages, was no doubt coveted by both. It must be the hand of this woman that should cast the dice, a white one and a red one for each man, and he whose red die fell closer to the line was winner in the grim game of life and death. \ Jean Brebceuf and Pierre Noir stood apart, and tears poured from the eyes of both. They were hardened men, well acquainted with Indian warfare ; they had seen the writhings of tortured victims, and more than once had faced such possibilities themselves; yet never had they seen sight like this. f Near the two men stood Mary Connynge, the bright blood burning in her cheeks, her eyes dry and wide open, looking from one to the other. God, who gives to this earth the few Mary Con- 260 nynges, alone knows the nature of those elements which made her, and the character of the conflict which now went on within her soul. Tell such a woman as Mary Connynge that she has a rival, and she will either love the more madly the man whom she demands as her own, or with equal madness and with greater intensity will hate her lover with a hatred undying and unappeasable. Mary Connynge stood, her eyes glancing from one to the other of the men before her. She had seen them both proved brave men, strong of arm, un daunted of heart, both gallant gentlemen. God, who makes the Mary Connynges of this earth, only can tell whether or not there arose in the heart of this savage woman, this woman at bay, scorned, rebuked, mastered, this one question: Which? If Mary Connynge hated John Law, or if she loved him ah! how must have pulsed her heart in agony, or in bitterness, as she took into her hand those lots which were the arbiters of life and death ! Teganisoris looked about him and spoke a few rapid words. He caught Mary Connynge roughly by the shoulder and pulled her forward. The two men stood with faces set and gray in the pitiless light of morn. Their arms were fast bound behind THE SACRIFICE 261 their backs. Eagerly the crowding savages pressed up to them, gesticulating wildly, and peering again and again into their faces to discover any sign of weakness. They failed. The pride of birth, the strength of character, the sheer animal vigor of each man stood him in stead at this ultimate trial. Each had made up his mind to die. Each proposed, not doubting that he would be the one to draw the fatal lot, to die as a man and a gentleman. Teganisoris would play this game with all pos sible mystery and importance. It should be told generations hence about the council fires, how he, Teganisoris, devised this game, how he played it, how he drew it out link by link to the last atom of its agony. There was no receptacle at hand in which the dice could be placed. Teganisoris stooped, and without ceremony wrenched from Mary Con- nynge's foot the moccasin which covered it the little shoe beaded, beautiful, and now again fate ful. Sir Arthur smiled as though in actual joy. "My friend," said he, "I have won! This might be the very slipper for which we played at the Green Lion long ago." Law turned upon him a face pale and solemn. "Sir," said he, "I pray God that the issue may not be as when we last played. I pray God that the dice may elect me and not yourself," 262 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE "You were ever lucky in the games of chance/' replied Pembroke. "Too lucky/' said Law. "But the winner here is the loser, if it be myself." Teganisoris roughly took from Mary Connynge's hand the little bits of bone. He cast them into the hollow of the moccasin and shook them dramat ically together, holding them high above his head. Then he lowered them and took out from the recep tacle two of the dice. He placed his hand on Law's shoulder, signifying that his was to be the first cast. Then he handed back the moccasin to the woman. Mary Connynge took the shoe in her hand and stepped forward to the line which had been drawn upon the ground. The red spots still burned upon her cheeks ; her eyes, amber, feline, still flamed hard and dry. She still glanced rapidly from one to the other, her eye as lightly quick and as brilliant as that of the crouched cat about to spring. Which? Which would it be? Could she con trol this game? Could she elect which man should live and which should die this woman, scorned, abased, mastered? Neither of these sought to read the riddle of her set face and blazing eyes. Each as he might offered his soul to his Creator. The hand of Mary Connynge was raised above THE SACKIFICE 263 her head. Her face was turned once more to John Law, her master, her commander, her repudiator. Slowly she turned the moccasin over in her hand. The white bone fell first, the red for a moment hang ing in the soft folds of the buckskin. She shook it out. It fell with its face nearly parallel to the ground and alighted not more than a foot from the line, rebounding scarce more than an inch or so. Low exclamations arose from all around the thick ened circle. "As I said, my friend," cried Sir Arthur, "I have won! The throw is passing close for you." Teganisoris again caught Mary Connynge by the shoulder, and dragged her a step or so farther along the line, the two dice being left on the ground as they had fallen. Once more her hand arose, once more it turned, once more the dice were cast. The goddess of fortune still stood faithful to this bold young man who had so often confidently assumed her friendship. His life, later to be so intimately concerned with this same new savagf country, was to be preserved for an ultimate oppor tunity. The white and the red bone fell together from the moccasin. Had it been the white that counted, Sir Arthur had been saved, for the white bone lay actually upon the line. The red fell almost 264 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE as close, but alighted on its end. As though impelled by some spirit of evil, it dropped upon some little pebble or hard bit of earth, bounded into the air, fell, and rolled quite away from the mark ! Even on that crowd of cruel savages there came a silence. Of the whites, one scarce dared look at the other. Slowly the faces of Pembroke and Law turned one toward the other. "Would God I could shake you by the hand," said Pembroke. "Good by." "As for you, dogs and worse than dogs," he cried, turning toward the red faces about him, "mark you! where I stand the feet of the white man shall stand forever, and crush your faces into the dirt !" Whether or not the Iroquois understood his defi ance could not be determined. With a wild shout they pressed upon him. Borne struggling and stumbling by the impulse of a dozen hands, Pembroke half walked and half was carried over the distance between the village and the brink of the chasm of Niagara. Until then it had not been apparent what was to be the nature of his fate, but when he looked upon the sliding floor of waters below him, and heard beyond the thunderous voices of the cataract, Pem broke knew what was to be his final portion. There was, at some distance above the great falls, THE SACRIFICE 265 a spot where descent was possible to the edge of the water. Pembroke's feet were loosened and he was compelled to descend the narrow path. A canoe was tethered at the shore, and the face of the young Englishman went pale as he realized what was to be the use assigned it. Bound again hand and foot, helpless, he was cast into this canoe. A strong arm sent the tiny craft out toward midstream. The hands of the great waters grasped the frail cockleshell, twisted it about, tossed it, played with it, and claimed it irrevocably for their own. For a few moments it was visible as it passed on down with the resistless current of the mighty stream. Almost at the verge of the plunge, the eyes watching from the shore saw at a distance the struggle made by the victim. He half raised himself in the boat and threw himself against its side. It was overset. For one instant the cold sun shone glistening on the wet bark of the upturned craft. It was but a moment, and then there was no dot upon the sol emn flood. CHAPTER XFV3 THE EMBASSY "Monsieur! Madame! Pierre Noir! Listen to me! I have saved you! I, Jean Brebceuf, I have rescued you !" So spoke Jean Breboouf, thrusting his head within the door of the lodge in which were the remaining prisoners of the Iroquois. It was indeed Jean Breboeuf who, strolling be yond the outer edge of the village, had been among the first to espy an approaching party of visitors. Of any travelers possible, none could have been more important to the prisoners. Too late, yet welcome even now, the embassy from New France among the Iroquois had arrived. In an instant the village was in an uproar. The leader of this embassy from Quebec was one Captain Joncaire, at that time of the French settle ments, but in former years a prisoner among the Onondagos, where he was adopted into the tribe and much respected. Joncaire was accompanied by a priest of the Jesuit brotherhood, by a young (266) THE EMBASSY 267 officer late of the regiment Carignan, and by two or three petty Canadian officials, as well as a struggling retinue of savages picked up on the way between Lake George and the Indian villages. He advanced now at the head of his little party, bearing in his hand a wampum belt. He pushed aside the young men, and demanded that he be brought to the chief of the village. Teganisoris himself presently ad vanced to meet him, and of him Joncaire demanded that there should at once be called a full council of the tribe; with which request the chief of the Onondagos hastened to comply. Fully accustomed to such ceremonies, Joncaire sat in the council calmly listening to the speeches of its orators, and at length arose for his own reply. "Brothers," said he, "I have here" and he drew from his tunic a copy of the decree of Louis XIV declaring peace between the French and the English colonies "a talking paper. This is the will of Onontio, whom you love and fear, and it is the will of the great father across the water, whom Onontio loves and fears. This talking paper says that our young men of the French colonies are no longer to go to war against Corlaer. The hatchet has been buried by the two great fathers. Brothers, I have come to tell you that it is time for the Iroquois also 268 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE to bury the hatchet, and to place upon it heavy stones, so that it never again can be dug up. "Brothers, as you know, the great canoes from across the sea are bringing more and more white men. Look about you, and tell me where are your fathers and your brothers and your sons? Half your fighting men are gone ; and if you turn to the West to seek out strong young men from the other tribes, which of them will come to sit by your fires and be your brothers ? The war trails of the Nations have gone to the West as far as the Great Eiver. All the country has been at war. The friends of Onontio beyond Michilimackinac have been so busy fighting that they have forgotten to take the beaver, or if they have taken it, they 'have been afraid to bring it down the water trail to us, lest the Iroquois or the English should rob them. "Brothers, a great peace is now declared. Onon tio, the father of all the red men, has taken the promises of his children, the Hurons, the Algonquins, the Miamis, the Illini, the Outagamies, the jib- ways, all those peoples who live to the west, that they will follow the war trail no more. Next summer there will be a great council. Onontio and Corlaer have agreed to call the tribes to meet at the Moun tain in the St. Lawrence. Onontio says to you that he will give you back your prisoners, and now he de- THE EMBASSY 269 mands that you in return give back those whom you may have with you. This is his will; and if you fail him, you know how heavy is his hand. "Brothers, I see that you have prisoners here, white prisoners. These must be given up to TIB. I will take them with me when I return. For your Indian captives, it is the will of Onontio that you bring them all to the Great Peace in the summer, and that you then, all of you, help to dig the great hill under which the hatchet is going to be buried. Then once more our rivers will not be red, and will look more like water. The sun will not shine red, but will look as the sun should look. The sky will again be blue. Our women and our children will no longer be afraid, and you Iroquois can go to sleep in your houses and not dread the arms of the French. Brothers, I have spoken. Peace is good." Teganisoris replied in the same strain as that chosen by Joncaire, assuring him that he was his brother; that his heart went out to him; that the Iroquois loved the French ; and that if they had gone to war with them, it was but because the young men of Corlaer had closed their eyes so that they could not see the truth. "As to these prisoners/' said he, "take them with you. We do not want them with us, for we fear they may bring us harm. Our medicine 270 man counseled us to offer up one of these prisoners as a sacrifice to the Great Spirit. We did so. Now our medicine man has a bad dream. He says that the white men are going to come and tear down our houses and trample our fields. When the time comes for the peace, the Iroquois will be at the Mountain. Brother, we will bury the hatchet, and bury it so deep that henceforth none may ever again dig it up." "It is well," said Joncaire, abruptly. "My broth ers are wise. Now let the council end, for my path is long and I must travel back to Onontio at once." Joncaire knew well enough the fickle nature of these savages, who might upon the morrow demand another council and perhaps arrive at different con clusions. Hearing there were no white prisoners in the villages farther to the west, he resolved to set forth at once upon the return with those now at hand. Hurrying, therefore, as soon as might be, to their leader, he urged him to make ready forthwith for the journey back to the St. Lawrence. "Unless I much mistake, Monsieur," said he to Law, "you are that same gentleman who so set all Quebec by the ears last winter. My faith! The regiment Carignan had cause to rejoice when you left for up river, even though you took with you half the ready coin of the settlement. Yet come you once more to meet the gentlemen of France, THE EMBASSY 271 and I doubt not they will be glad as ever to stake you high as may be in this poverty-stricken region. You have been far to the westward, I doubt not. You were,, perhaps, made prisoner somewhere below the Straits." "Far below; among the tribe of the Illini, in the valley of the Messasebe." "You tell me so! I had thought no white man left in that valley for this season. And madame this child surely 'twas the first white infant born in the great valley." "And the most unfortunate "Nay, how can you say that, since you have come more than half a thousand miles and are all safe and sound to-day ? Glad enough we shall be to have you and madame with us for the winter, if, indeed, it be not for longer dwelling. I can not take you now to the English settlements, since I must back to the governor with the news. Yet dull enough you would find these Dutch of the Hudson, and worse yet the blue-nosed psalmodists of New England. Much better for you and your good lady are the gayer capitals of New France, or la belle France itself, that older France. Monsieur, how infinitely more fit for a gentleman of spirit is France than your dull England and its Dutch king! Either New France or Old France, let me advise you; and as to 272 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE that new West, let me counsel that you wait until after the Big Peace. And, in speaking, your friend, Du Mesne, your lieutenant, the coureur his fate, I suppose, one need not ask. He was killed where?" Law recounted the division of his party just pre vious to the Iroquois attack, and added his concern lest Du Mesne should return to the former station during the spring and find but its ruins, with no news of the fate of his friends. "Oh, as to that 'twould be but the old story of the voyageurs" said Joncaire. "They are used enough to journeying a thousand miles or so, to find the trail end in a heap of ashes, and to the tune of a scalp dance. Fear not for your lieuten ant, for, believe me, he has fended for himself if there has been need. Yet I would warrant you, now that this word for the peace has gone out, we shall see your friend Du Mesne as big as life at the Mountain next summer, knowing as much of your history as you yourself do, and quite counting upon meeting you with us on the St. Lawrence, and madame as well. As to that, methinks madame Will be better with us on the St. Lawrence than on the savage Messasebe. We have none too many damea among iis, and I need not state, what monsieur's eyes have told him every morning that a fairer THE EMBASSY 273 never set foot from ship from over seas. Witness my lieutenant yonder, Raoul de Ligny! He is thus soon all devotion ! Mother of God ! but we are well met here, in this wilderness, among the savages. Voila, Monsieur! We take you again captive, and 'tis madame enslaves us all !" There had indeed ensued conversation between the young French officer above named and Mary Connynge; yet prompt as might have been the for mer with gallant attentions to so fair a captive, it could not have been said that he was allowed the first advances. Mary Connynge, even after a month of starving foot travel and another month of anxiety at the Iroquois villages, had lost neither her rounded body, her brilliance of eye and color, nor her subtle magnetism of personality. It had taken stronger head than that of Raoul de Ligny to withstand even her slight request. How, then, as to Mary Connynge supplicating, entreating, crav ing of him protection ? "Ah, you brave Frenchmen," said she to De Ligny, advancing to him as he stood apart, twisting his mustaches and not unmindful of this very possibil ity of a conversation with the captive. "You brave Frenchmen, how can we thank you for our salvation ? It was all so horrible !" "It is our duty to save all, Madame," rejoined 274 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE De Ligny; "our happiness unspeakable to save such as Madame. I swear by my sword, I had as soon expected to find an angel with the Iroquois as to meet there Madame! Quebec all Quebec has told me who Madame was and is. 'And I am your slave." "Oh, sir, could you but mean that!" and there was turned upon him the full power of a gaze which few men had ever been able to withstand. The blood of De Ligny tingled as he bowed and replied. "If Madame could but demand one proof." Mary Connynge stepped closer to him. "Hush!" she said. "Speak low! Do not let it seem that we are interested. Keep your own counsel. Can you do this?" The eyes of the young officer gleamed. He was bold enough to respond. This his temptress noted. He nodded. "You see that man the tall one, John Law? Lis ten! It is from him I ask you to save me. Oh, sir, there is my captivity!" "What! Your husband?" "He is not my husband." "Mais a thousand pardons. The child your pardon." "Pish! 'Tis the child of an Indian woman." "Oh!" The blood again came to the young gal lant's forehead, THE EMBASSY! 275 "Listen, I tell you! I have been scarce better than a prisoner in this man's hands. He has abused me, threatened me, would have beaten me " "Madame Mademoiselle !" "'Tis true. We have been far in the West, and I could not escape. Good Providence has now brought my rescue and you, Monsieur! Oh! tell me that it has brought me safety, and also a friend that it has brought me you !" With every pulse a-tingle, every vein afire, what could the young gallant do? What but yield, but promise, but swear, but rage? "Hush!" said Mary Connynge, her own eyes gleaming. "Wait! The time will come. So soon as we reach the settlements, I leave him, and for ever ! Then " Their hands met swiftly. "He has abandoned me," murmured Mary Connynge. "He has not spoken to me for weeks, other than words of Tea/ or o that ! Wait ! Wait ! How soon- shall we be at Montreal?" "Less than a month. 'Twill seem an age, I swear !" "Madam," interrupted Law, "pardon, but Mon sieur Joncaire bids us be ready. Come, help me ar range the packs for our journey. Perhaps Lieuten ant de Ligny for so I think they name you, sir 276 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE will pardon us, and will consent to resume his conversation later." "Assuredly/' said De Ligny. "I shall wait, Mon sieur." "So, Madam," said Law to Mary Connynge, as they at last found themselves alone in the lodge, arranging their few belongings for transport, "we are at last to regain the settlements, and for a time, at least, must forego our home in the farther West. In time " "OK, in time! What mean you?" "Why, we may return." "Never! I have had my fill of savaging. That we are left alive is mighty merciful. To go thither again never !" "And if I go?" "As you like." "Meaning, Madam '?" "What you like." Law seated himself on the corded pack, bringing the tips of his fingers together. "Then my late sweetheart has somewhat changed her fancy?" "I have no fancy left. What I was once to you I shall not recall more than I can avoid in my own mind. As to what you heard from that lying man, Sir Arthur " THE EMBASSY] 377 'listen! Stop! Neither must you insult the 'dead nor the absent. I have never told you what I learned from Sir Arthur, though it was enough to set me well distraught." "I doubt not that he told you 'twas I who be fooled Lady Catharine; that 'twas I who took the letter which you sent " "Stay! No. He told me not so much as that. But he and you together have told me enough to show me that I was the basest wretch on earth, the most gullible, the most unspeakably false and cruel. How could I have doubted the faith of Lady Catha rine how, but for you ? Oh, Mary Connynge, Mary Connynge! Would God a man were so fashioned he might better withstand the argument of soft flesh and shining eyes ! I admit, I believed the dis loyal one, and doubted her who was loyalty itself." "And you would go back into the wilderness with one who was as false as you say." "Never !" replied John Law, swiftly. " 'Tis as you yourself say. 'Tis all over. Hell itself hath fol lowed me. Now let it all go, one with the other, little with big. I did not forget, nor should I though I tried again. Back to Europe, back to the gaming tables, to the wheels and cards I go again, and plunge into it madder than ever did man be fore. Let us see if chance can bring John Law 278 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE anything worse than what he has already known. But, Madam, doubt not. So long as you claim my protection, here or anywhere on earth in the West, in France, in England it is yours; for I pay for my folly like a man, he assured of that. The child is ours, and it must be considered. But once let me find you in unfaithfulness once let me know that you resign me then John Law is free ! I shall sometime see Catharine Knollys again. I shall give her my heart's anguish, and I shall have her heart's scorn in return. And then, Mary Connynge, the cards, dice, perhaps drink perhaps gold, and the end. Madam, remember! And now come I" CHAPTER XV THE GREAT PEACE Of the long and bitter journey from the Iroquois towns to Lake St. George, down the Richelieu and thence through the deep snows of the Canadian win ter, it boots little to make mention; neither to tell of that devotion of Raoul de Ligny to the newly- rescued lady, already reputed in camp rumor to be of noble English family. "That sous-lieutenant; he is tete montee regarding madame," said Pierre Noir one evening to Jean Brebceuf. "As to that well, you know Monsieur L'as. Pouf ! So much for yon monkey, par com- paraison" "He is a great capitaine, Monsieur L'as," said Jean Breboeuf. "Never a better went beyond the Straits." "But very sad of late." "Oh, oui, since the death of his friend, Monsieur %e Capitaine Pembroke may Mary aid his spirit !" "Monsieur L'as goes not on the trail again," said (279) 280 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE Pierre Noir. "At least not while this look is in his eye." "The more the loss, Pierre Noir ; but some day the woods will call to him again. I know not how long it may be, yet some day Mother Messasebe will raise her finger and beckon to Monsieur L'as, and say: 'Come, my son!' 'Tis thus, as you know, Pierre Noir." Yet at length the straggling settlements at Mon treal were reached, and here, after the fashion of the frontier, some sort of menage was inaugurated for Law and his party. Here they lived through the rest of the winter and through the long, slow spring. And then set on again the heats of summer, and there came apace the time agreed upon, in the month of August, for the widely heralded assem bling of the tribes for the Great Peace; one of the most picturesque, as it was one of the most re markable and significant meetings of widely diverse human beings, that ever took place within the ken of history. : They came, these savages, now first owning the strength of the invading white men, from all the far and unknown corners of the Western wilderness. They came afoot, and with little trains of dogs, in single canoes, in little groups and growing flotil- THE GEEAT PEACE 281 las and vast fleets of canoes, pushing on and on, down stream, following the tide of the furs down this pathway of more than a thousand miles. The Iroquois, for once mindful of a promise, came in a compact fleet, a hundred canoes strong, and they stalked about the island for days, naked, stark, gigantic, contemptuous of white and red men, of friend and foe alike. The scattered Algonquins, whose villages had been razed by these same sav age warriors, came down by scores out of the North ern woods, along little, unknown streams, and over paths with which none but themselves were ac quainted. From the North, group joined group, and village added itself to village, until a vast body of people had assembled, whose numbers would have been hard to estimate, and who proved difficult enough to accommodate. Yet from the farther West, adding their numbers to those already gathered, came the fleets of the driven Hurons, and the Ojibways, and the Miamis, and the Outagamies, and the Ot- tawas, the Menominies and the Mascoutins even the Illini, late objects of the wrath of the Five Nations. The whole Western wilderness poured forth its savage population, till all the shores of the St. Lawrence seemed one vast aboriginal encamp ment. These massed at the rendezvous about the puny settlement of Montreal in such numbers that, 282 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE in comparison, the white population seemed insig nificant. Then, had there been a Pontiac or a Te- cumseh, had there been one leader of the tribes able to teach the strength of unity, the white set tlements of tipper America had indeed been utterly destroyed. Naught but ancient tribal jealousies held the savages apart. With these tribesmen were many prisoners, cap tives taken in raids all along the thin and strag gling frontier; farmers and artisans, peasants and soldiers, women raped from the farms of the Riche lieu censitaires, and wood-rangers now grown sav age as their captors and loth to leave the wild life into which they had so naturally grown. It was the first reflex of the wave, and even now the bits of flotsam and jetsam of wild life were fain to cling to the Western shore whither they had been carried by the advancing flood. This was the meeting of the ebb with the sea that sent it forward, the meeting of civilized and savage; and strange enough was the nature of those confluent tides. Whether the red men were yielding to civilization, or the whites all turning savage this question might well have arisen to an observer of this tremendous spectacle. The wigwams of the different tribes and clans and families were grouped apart, scattered along all the narrow shore back of the great hill, THE GKEAT PEACE 283 and over the Convent gardens; and among these stalked the native French, clad in coarse cloth of blue, with gaudy belt and buckskins, and cap of fur and moccasins of hide, mingling fraternally with their tufted and bepainted visitors, as well as with those rangers, both envied and hated, the savage coureurs de bois of the far Northern fur trade ; men bearded, silent, stern, clad in breech-clout and leggings like any savage, as silent, as stoical, as hardy on the trail as on the narrow thwart of the canoe. Savage feastings, riotings and drunkenness, and long debaucheries came with the Great Peace, when once the word had gone out that the fur trade was to be resumed. Henceforth there was to be peace. The French were no longer to raid the little cabins along the Kennebec and the Penobscot. The river Eichelieu was to be no longer a red war trail. The English were no longer to offer arms and blankets for the beaver, belonging by right of prior discovery to those who offered French brandy and French beads. The Iroquois were no longer to pursue a timid foe across the great prairies of the valley of the Messasebe. The Ojibways were not to ambush the scattered parties of the Iroquois. The unam bitious colonists of New England and New York were to be left to till their stony farms in quiet. Meantime, the fur trade, wasteful, licentious, un- 284 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE profitable, was to extend onward and outward in all the marches of the West. From one end of the Great River of the West to the other the insignia of France and of France's king were to be erected, and France's posts were to hold all the ancient trails. Even at the mouth of the Great River, fore stalling these sullen English and these sluggish English colonists, far to the south in the somber forests and miasmatic marshes, there was to be established one more ruling point for the arms of Louis the Grand. It was a great game this, for which the continent of America was in preparation. It was a mighty thing, this gathering of the Great Peace, this time when colonists and their king were seeing the first breaking of the wave on the shore of an empire alluring, wonderful, unparalleled. Into this wild rabble of savages and citizens, of priest and soldier and coureur, Law's friends, Pierre Noir and Jean Brebceuf, swiftly disappeared, natur ally, fitly and unavoidably. "The West is calling to us, Monsieur," said Pierre Noir one morning, as he stood looking out across the river. "I hear once more the spirits of the Messasebe. Monsieur, will you come?" Law shook his head. Yet two days later, as he stood at that very point, there came to him the silent feet of two coureurs instead of one. Once THE GEEAT PEACE 285 more he heard in his ear the question: "Monsieur L'as, will you come?" At this voice he started. In an instant his arms were about the neck of Du Mesne, and tears were falling from the eyes of both in the welcome of that brotherhood which is admitted only by those who have known together arms and danger and hard ship, the touch of the hard ground and the sight of the wide blue sky. night at my own table, within the very gates of the Palais Royal; you, the murderer of the woman I adored ! And now, you mocker and flouter of what may be my bitterest misfortune why, sir, no punishment is sharp enough for you ! Why do you stand there, sir? Do you dare to mock me to mock us, the person of the king ?" "I mock not in the least, your Grace," said John Law, "nor do aught else that ill beseems a gentle man. I should have been proud to be known as the friend of Philippe of Orleans, yet I stand before that Philippe of Orleans and tell him that that man doth not live, nor that set of terrors exist, which can frighten John Law, nor cause him to depart from that stand which he once has taken. Sir, if you seek to frighten me, you fail." "But, look you consider," said the regent. "Something must be done." "As I said," replied Law. "But what is going to happen? What will the people do ?" "First," said Law, judicially, flicking at the deep lace of his cuff as though he were taking into con sideration the price of a wig or cane, "first, the price of a share having gone to twelve thousand livres this morning, by two o'clock will be so low MASTER AND MAN 413 as ten thousand. By three o'clock this afternoon it will be six thousand. Then, your Grace, there will be panic. Then the spell will be broken. France will rub her eyes and begin to awaken. Then, since the king can do no wrong, and since the regent is the king, your Grace can do one of two things. He can send a body-guard to watch my door, or he can see John Law torn into fragments, as these people would tear the real au thor of their undoing, did they but recognize him." "But can nothing be done to stop this? Can it not be accommodated ?" "Ask yourself. But I must go on to say what these people will do. All at once they will demand specie for their notes. The Prince de Conti will drive his coaches to the door of your bank, and demand that they be loaded with gold. Jacques and Eaoul and Pierre, and every peasant and pavior in Paris will come with boxes and panniers, and each of them will also demand his gold. Make edicts, your Grace. Publish broadcast and force out into publicity, on every highway of France, your decree that gold and silver are not so good as your bank notes; that no one must have gold or silver ; that no one must send his gold and silver out of France, but that all must bring it to the king and take for it in exchange 414 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE these notes of yours. Try that. It ought to succeed, ought it not, your Grace ?" His bantering tone sank into one of half plausibility. "Why, surely. That would be the solution." "Oh, think you so ? Your Grace is wondrous keen as a financier ! Now take the counsel of Dubois, of D'Argenson, my very good friends. This is what they will counsel you to do. And I will counsel you at the same time to avail yourself of their advice. Tell all France to bring in its gold, to enable you to put something essential under the value of all this paper money which you have been sending out so lavishly, so unthinkingly, so without stint or measure/' "Yes. And then?" "Why, then, your Grace," said Law, "then we shall see what we shall see!" The regent again choked with anger. Law con tinued. "Go on. Smooth down the back of this animal. Continue to reduce these taxes. The spe cie of the realm of France, as I am banker enough to know, is not more than thirteen hundred millions of livres, allowing sixty-five livres to the marc. Yet long before this your Grace has crowded the issue of our actions until there are out not less than twenty-six hundred millions of livres in the stock of our Company. Your Brothers Paris, your D'Argen- MASTER AND MAN 415 son, your Dubois will tell you how you can make the people of France continue to believe that twice two is not four, that twice thirteen is not twenty-six !" "But this they are doing," broke in the regent, with a ray of hope in his face. "This they are doing. We have provided for that. In the council not an hour ago the Abbe Dubois and Monsieur d'Argenson decided that the time had come to make some fixed proportion between the specie and these notes. We have to-day framed an edict, which the Parliament will register, stating that the interests of the subjects of the king require that the price of these bank notes should be lessened, so that there may be some sort of accommodation between them and the coin of the realm. We have ordered that the shares shall, within thirty days, drop to seventy-five hun dred livres, in another thirty days to seven thousand livres, and so on, at five hundred livres a month, until at last they shall have a value of one-half what they were to-day. Then, tell me, my wise Monsieur L'as, would not the issue of our notes and the total of our specie be equal, one with the other? The only wrong thing is this insulting presumption of these people, who have sold actions at a price lower than we have decreed." Law smiled as he replied. "You say excellently well, my master. These plans surely show that you 416 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE and your able counselors have studied deeply the questions of finance! I have told you what would happen to-day without any decree of the king. Now go you on, and make your decrees. You will find that the people are much more eager for values which are going up than values which are going down. Start your shares down hill, and you will see all France scramble for such coin, such plate, such jewels as may be within the ability of France to lay her hands upon. Tell me, your Grace, did Monsieur d'Argenson advise you this morning as to the total issue of the actions of this Company ?" "Surely he did, and here I have it in memo randum, for I was to have taken it up with yourself," replied the regent. "So," exclaimed Law, a look of surprise passing over his countenance, until now rigidly controlled, as he gazed at the little sli-p of paper. "Your Grace advises me that there are issued at this time in the shares of the Company no less than two billion, two hundred and thirty-five million, eighty-five thousand, five hundred and ninety livres in notes! Against this, as your Grace is good enough to agree with me, we have thirteen hundred millions of specie. Your Grace, yourself and I have seen some pretty games in our day. Look you, the merriest game of all your life is now but just before you 1" MASTEK AND MAN 417 "And you would go and leave me at this time?" "Never in my life have I forsaken a friend at the time of distress/' replied Law. "But your Grace absolved me when you forsook me, when you doubted and hesitated regarding me, and believed the protes tations of those not so able as myself to judge of what was best. And now it is too late. Will your Grace allow me to suggest that a place behind stout gates and barred doors, deep within the interior of the Palais Eoyal, will be the best residence for him to night perhaps for several nights to come ?" "And yourself?" "As for myself, it does not matter," replied Law, slowly and deliberately. "I have lived, and I thought I had succeeded. Indeed, success was minfe for some short months, though now I must meet fail ure. I have this to console me that 'twas failure not of my own fault. As for France, I loved her. As for America, I believe in her to-day, this very hour. As for your Grace in person, I was your friend, nor was I ever disloyal to you. But it some times doth seem that, no matter how sincere be one in one's endeavors, no matter how cherished, no matter how successful for a time may be his ambi tions, there is ever some little blight to eat the face of the full fruit of his happiness. To-morrow I shall perhaps not be alive. It is very well. There 418 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE is nothing I could desire, and it is as well to-morrow as at any time." "But surely, Monsieur L'as," interrupted the re gent, with a trace of his old generosity, "if there should he outbreak, as you fear, I shall, of course, give you a guard. I shall indeed see you safe out of the city, if you so prefer, though I had much liefer you would remain and try to help us undo this coil, wherein I much misdoubt myself." "Your Grace, I am a disappointed man, a man with nothing in the world to comfort him. I have said that I would not help you, since 'twas yourself brought ruin on my plans, and cast down that work which I had labored all my life to finish. Yet I will advise this, as being your most immediate plan. Smooth down this France as best you may. Eemit more taxes, as I said. Depreciate the value of these shares gently, but rapidly as you can. Institute great numbers of perpetual annuities. Juggle, tem porize, postpone, get for yourself all the time you can. Trade for the people's shares all you have that they will take. You can never strike a balance, and can never atone for the egregious error of this over-issue of stock which has no intrinsic value. Eventually you may have to declare void many of these shares and withdraw from the currency these MASTER AND MAN" 419 actions for which so recently the people have been clamoring." "That means repudiation!" broke in the re gent. "Certainly, your Grace, and in so far your Grace has my extremest sympathy. I know it was your resolve not to repudiate the debts of France, as those debts stood when I first met you some years ago. That was honorable. Yet now the debts of France are immeasurably greater, rich as France thinks herself to be. Not all France, were the peo ple and the produce of the commerce counted in the coin, could pay the debt of France as it now exists. Hence, honorable or not, there is nothing else it is repudiation which now confronts you. France is worse than bankrupt. And now it would seem wise if your Grace took immediate steps, not only for the safety of his person, but for the safety of the Government." "Sir, do you mean that the people would dare, that they would presume " "The people are not what they were. There hath come into Europe the leaven of the New World. I had looked there to see a nobler and a better France. It is too late for that, and surely it is too late for the old ways of this France which we 420 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE see about us. You can not presume now upon the temper of these folk as you might have done fifty years ago. The Messasebe, that noble stream, it hath swept its purifying flood throughout the world! Look you, at this moment there is tumbling this house which we have built of bubbles, one bubble upon another, blowing each bubble bigger and thinner than the last. Mine is not the only fault, nor yet the greatest fault. I was sincere, where others cared naught for sincerity. Another day, another people, may yet say the world was better for my effort, and that therefore at the last I have not failed." CHAPTER XI THE BREAKING OF THE BUBBLE It was the evening of the day following that on which John Law and the regent of France had met in their stormy interview. During the morning but little had transpired regarding the significant events of the previous day. In these vast and ex cited crowds, divided into groups and cliques and factions, aided by no bulletins, counseled by no printed page, there was but little cohesion of pur pose, since there was little unity of understanding. The price of shares at one kiosk might be certain thousands of livres, whereas a square away, the price might vary by half as many livres; so im petuous was the advance of these continually rising prices, and so frenzied and careless the temper of those who bargained for them. Yet before noon of the day following the decree of the regent, which fixed the value of actions upon a descending scale, the news, after a fashion of its own, spread rapidly abroad, and all too swiftly the truth was generally known. The story started .(421) 422 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE in a rumor that shares had been offered and de clined at a price which had been current but a few moments before. This was something which had not been known in all these feverish months of the Messasebe. Then came the story that shares could not be counted upon to realize over eight thousand livres. At that the price of all the actions dropped in a flash, as Law had prophesied. A sudden wave of sanity, a panic chill of sober understanding swept over this vast multitude of still unreasoning souls who had traded so long upon this impossible suppo sition of an ever-advancing market. Reason still lacked among them, yet fear and sudden suspicion were not wanting. Man after man hastened swiftly away to sell privately his shares before greater drop in the price might come. He met others upon the same errand. Precisely the reverse of the old situation now ob tained. As all Paris had fought to buy, so now all Paris fought to sell. The streets were filled with clamoring mobs. If earlier there had been confu sion, now there was pandemonium. Never was such a scene witnessed. Never was there chronicled so swift and utter reversion of emotion in the minds of a great concourse of people. Bitter indeed was the wave of agony that swept over Paris. It began at the Messasebe, in the gardens of the Hotel de THE BREAKING OF THE BUBBLE 423 Soisson, at that focus hard by the temple of For- tuna. It spread and spread, edging out into all the remoter portions of the walled city. It reached ultimately the extreme confines of Paris. Into the crowded square which had been decreed as the trad ing-place of the Messasebe System, there crowded from the outer purlieus yet other thousands of ex cited human beings. The end had come. The bub ble had burst. There was no longer any System of the Messasebe ! It was late in the day, in fact well on toward night, when the knowledge of the crash came into the neighborhood where dwelt the Lady Catharine Knol- lys. To her the news was brought by a servant, who excitedly burst unannounced into her mis tress's presence. "Madame ! Madame !" she cried. "Prepare ! 'Tis horrible! 'Tis impossible! All is at an end!" "What mean you, girl!" cried Lady Catharine, displeased at the disrespect. "What is happening? Is there fire? And even if there were, could you not remember your duty more seemly than this?" "Worse, worse than fire, Madame! Worse than anything! The bank has failed! The shares of the System are going down! 'Tis said that we can get but three thousand livres the share, perhaps less perhaps they will go down to nothing. I am 424 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE ruined, ruined! We are all ruined! And within the month I was to have been married to the foot man of the Marquis d'Allouez, who has bought himself a title this very week !" "And if it has fallen so ill," said Lady Catharine, "since I have not speculated in these things like most folk, I shall be none the worse for it, and shall still have money to pay your wages. So per haps you can marry your marquis after all." "But we shall not be rich, Madame! We are ruined, ruined ! Mon Dieu! we poor folk ! We had the hope to be persons of quality. "Pis all the work of this villain Jean L'as. May the Bastille get him, or the people, and make him pay for this !" "Stop! Enough of this, Marie!" said the Lady Catharine, sternly. "After this have better wisdom, and do not meddle in things which you do not understand." Yet scarce had the girl departed before there ap peared again the sound of running steps, and pres ently there broke, equally unannounced, into the pres ence of his mistress, the coachman, fresh from his stables and none too careful of his garb. Tears ran down his cheeks. He flung out his hands with gestures as of one demented. "The news!" cried he. "The news, my Lady! THE BBEAKING OF THE BUBBLE 425 The horrible news! The System has vanished, the shares are going down !" "Fellow, what do you here ?" said Lady Catharine. "Why do you come with this same story which Marie has just brought to me? Can you not learn your place?" "But, my Lady, you do not understand!" reiter ated the man, blankly. " 'Tis all over. There is no Messasebe; there is no longer any System, no longer any Company of the Indies. There is no longer wealth for the stretching out of the hand. 'Tis all over. I must go back to horses I, Madame, who should presently have associated with the nobility!" "Well, and if so," replied his mistress, "I can say to you, as I have to Marie, that there will still be money for your wages." "Wages ! My faith, what trifles, my Lady ! This Monsieur L'as, the director-general, he it is who has ruined us ! Well enough it is that the square in front of his hotel is filled with people! Pres ently they will break down his doors. And then, pray God they punish him for this that he has done !" The cheek of Lady Catharine paled and a sudden flood of -contending emotions crossed her mind. "You do not tell me that Monsieur L'as is in dan ger, Pierre?" said she. 426 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE "Assuredly. Perhaps within the very hour they will tear down his doors and rend him limb from limb. There is no punishment which can. serve him right him who has ruined our pretty, pretty System. Mon Dieu! It was so beautiful!" "Is this news certain ?" "Assuredly, most certain. Why should it not be ? The entire square in front of the Hotel de Soisson is packed. Unless my Lady needs me, I myself must hasten thither to aid in the punishment of this Jean L'as!" "You will stay -here," said Lady Catharine. "Wait! There may be need! For the present, go!" Left alone, Lady Catharine stood for a moment pale and motionless, in the center of the room. She strode then to the window and stood looking fixedly out. Her whole figure was tense, rigid. Yonder, over there, across the gabled roofs of Paris, they were clamoring at the door of him who had given back Paris to the king, and France again to its people. They were assailing him this man so long unfaltering, so insistent on his ambitions, so so steadfast! Could she call him steadfast? And they would seize him in spite of the courage which she knew would never fail. They would kill, they would rend, they would trample him! They THE BREAKING OF THE BUBBLE 427 would crush that glorious body, abase the lips that had spoke so well of love ! The clenched fingers of Lady Catharine broke apart, her arms were flung wide in a gesture of resolution. She turned from the window, looking here and there about the room. Unconsciously she stopped before the great cheval-glass that hung against the wall. She stood there, looking at her own image, keenly, deeply. She saw indeed a woman fit for sweet usages of love, comely and rounded, deep-bosomed, her oval face framed in the piled masses of glorious red-brown hair. But her wide, blue eyes, scarce seeing this outward form, stared into the soul of that other whom she witnessed. It was as though the Lady Catharine Knollys at last saw another self and recognized it! A quick, hard sob broke from her throat. In haste she flew, now to one part of the room, now to an other, picking up first this article and then that which seemed of need. And so at last she hurried to the bell-cord. "Quick/' cried she, as the servant at length ap peared. "Quick! Do not delay an instant! My carriage at once!" CHAPTEE XII As for John Law, all through that fatal day which meant for him the ruin of his ambitions, he continued in the icy calm which, for days past, had distinguished him. He discontinued his ordi nary employments, and spent some hours in sorting and destroying numbers of papers and documents. His faithful servant, the Swiss, Henri, he com manded to make ready his apparel for a journey. "At six this evening," said he, "Henri, we shall be ready to depart. Let us be quite ready well before that time." "Monsieur is leaving Paris?" asked the Swiss, re spectfully. "Quite so." "Perhaps for a stay of some duration?" "Quite so, indeed, Henri." "Then, sir," expostulated the Swiss, "it would require a day or so for me to properly arrange your luggage." "Not at all," replied Law. "Two valises will suf- (428) THAT WHICH EEMAINED 429 fice, not more, and I shall perhaps not need even these." "Not all the apparel, the many coats, the jewels " "Do not trouble over them." "But what disposition shall I make ?" "None at all. Leave all these things as they are. But stay this package which I shall prepare for you take it to the regent, and have it marked in his care and for the Parliament of France." Law raised in his hands a bundle of parchments, which one by one he tore across, throwing the frag ments into a basket as he did so. "The seat of Tancarville," he said. "The estate of Berville; the Hotel Mazarin; the lands of Bour- get; the Marquisat of Charleville; the lands of Orcher ; the estate of Eoissy Gad ! what a number of them I find." "But, Monsieur," expostulated the Swiss, "what is that you do? Are these not your possessions?" "Not so, mon ami" replied Law. "They once were mine. They are estates in France. Take back these deeds. Dead Sully may have his own again, and each of these late owners of the lands. I wished them for a purpose. That purpose is no longer possible, and now I wish them no more. Take back your deeds, my friends, and bear in your minds that 430 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE John Law tore them in two, and thus canceled the obligation." "But the moneys you have paid they are enor mous. Surely you will exact restitution?" "Sirrah, could I not afford these moneys?" "Admirably at the time," replied the Swiss, with the freedom of long service. "But for the future, what do we know? Besides, it is a matter of right and justice." "Ah, mon ami" said Law, "right and justice are no more. But since you speak of money, let us take precautions as to that. We shall need some money for our journey. See, Henri! Take this note and get the money which it calls for. But no ! The crowd may be too great. Look in the drawer of my desk yonder, and take out what you find." The Swiss did as he was bidden, but at length returned with troubled face. "Monsieur," said he, "I can find but a hundred louis." "Put half of it back," said Law. "We shall not need so much." "But, Monsieur, I do not understand." "We shall not need more than fifty louis. That is enough. Leave the rest," said Law. "Leave it where you found it." "But for whom? Does Monsieur soon return?" THAT WHICH REMAINED 431 "No. Leave it for him who may be first to find it. These dear people without, these same people whom I have enriched, and who now will claim that I have impoverished them these people will demand of me everything that I have. As a man of honor I can not deny them. They shall have every jot and stiver of the property of John Law, even the million or so of good coin which he brought here to Paris with him. The coat on my back, the wheels beneath me, gold enough to pay for the charges of the inns through France that is all that John Law will take away with him." The arms of the old servant fell helpless at his side. "Sir, this is madness," he expostulated. "Not so, Henri," replied Law, leniently. "Mad ness enough there has been in Paris, it is true, but madness not mine nor of my making. For madness, look you yonder." He pointed a finger through the window where the stately edifice of the Palais Royal rose. "My good friend the regent it is he who hath been mad," continued Law. "He, holding France in trust, has ruined France forever." "Monsieur, I grieve for you," said the Swiss. "I have seen your success in these years and, as you may imagine, have understood something of your affairs as time went on." 432 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE "And have you not profited by your knowledge in these times?" "I have had the salary your Honor has agreed to pay me," replied the Swiss. "And no more?" "No more." "Why, there are serving folk in France by the hundreds who have grown millionaires by the knowl edge of their employers' affairs these last two years in Paris. Never was such a time in all the world for making money. Have you been more blind than they? Why did you not tell me? Why did you not ask?" "I was content with your employment, Monsieur L'as. I would ask no better master." "It is not so with certain others. They think me a hard master enough, and having displaced me, will do all they can to punish me. But now, Henri, you will perhaps need to look elsewhere for a mas ter. I am going far away perhaps across the seas. It may be but I know not where and care not where my foot may wander hereafter, nor will I seek now to plan for it. As for you, Henri, since you admit you have been thus blind to your own inter ests, let us look to that. Go to the desk again. Take out the drawer that one on the left hand. So bring it to me." THAT WHICH KEMAINED 433 The servant obeyed. Law took from his hand the receptacle, and with a sweep of his hand poured out on the table its contents. A mass of glitter ing gems, diamonds, sapphires, pearls, emeralds, fell and spread over the table top. The light cast out by their thousand facets lit up the surroundings with shimmering, many-colored gleams. The wealth of a kingdom might have been here in the careless possession of this man, whose resources had been absolutely without measure. "Help yourself, Henri," said Law, calmly, and turned about to his employment among the papers. A moment later he turned again to see his servant still standing motionless. "Well?" said Law. "I do not understand," said the Swiss. "Take what you like," said Law. "I have said it, and I mean it. It is for your pay, because you have been honest, because I understand you as a faithful man." "But, Monsieur, these things have very great value," said the Swiss. "Let me ask how is it that you yourself take so little gold along? Does Monsieur purpose to take with him his fortune in gems and jewels instead?" "By no means. I purpose taking but fifty louis, as I have said." 434 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE "Monsieur would have me replace the drawer?" "How do you mean?" "Why, I want none of them." "Why?" "Because Monsieur wants none of them." "Fie ! Your case is quite different from mine." "Perhaps, but I want none of them." "Are you afraid?" "Monsieur !" "Do you not think them genuine stones?" "Assuredly," said the Swiss, "else why should we have cared for them among our gems ?" "Well, then, I command you as your master, to take forth some of these jewels and keep them for your own." "But no," replied the Swiss. "It is only after Monsieur." "What? Myself?" "Assuredly." "Then, for the sake of precedent," said Law, "let me see. Well, then, I will take one gem, only one. Here, Henri, is the diamond which I brought with me when I came to Paris years ago. It was the sole jewel owned then by my brother and myself, though we had somewhat of gold between us, thanks to this same diamond. It was once my sole capital, THAT WHICH EEMAINED 435 in years gone by. Perhaps we may need a carriage through France, and this may serve to pay the hire of a vehicle from one of my late dukes or mar quises. Or perhaps at best I may send this same stone across the channel to my brother Will, who has wisely gone to Scotland, or should have de parted before this. So, very well, Henri, to oblige you I will take this single stone. Now, do you help yourself.'* "Since Monsieur limits himself to so little/' said the Swiss, sturdily, "I shall not want more. This little pin will serve me, and I shall wear it long in memory of your many kindnesses." Law rose to his feet and caught the good fellow by the hand. "By heaven, I find you of good blood!" said he. "My friend, I thank you. And now put up the box. I shall not counsel you to take more than this. We shall leave the rest for those who will presently come to claim it." For some time silence reigned in the great room, as Law, deeply engaged in the affairs before him, buried himself in the mass of scattered books and papers. Hour after hour wore on, and at last he turned from his employment. His face showed calm, pale, and furrowed with a sadness which till now 436 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE had been foreign to it. He arose at last, and with a sweep of his arm pushed back the papers which lay before him. "There," said he. "This should conclude it all. It should all be plain enough now to those who fol low." "Monsieur is weary," mentioned the faithful at tendant. "He would have- some refreshment." "Presently, but I think not here, Henri. My household is not all so faithful as yourself, and I question if we could find cook or servants for the table below. No, we are to leave Paris to-night, Henri, and it is well the journey should begin. Get you down to the stables, and, if you can, have my best coach brought to the front door." "It may not be quite safe, if Monsieur will permit me to suggest." "Perhaps not. These fools are so deep in their folly that they do not know their friends. But safe or not, that is the way I shall go. We might slip out through the back door, but 'tis not thus John Law will go from Paris." The servant departed, and Law, left alone, sat silent and motionless, buried in thought. Now and again his head sank forward, like that of one who has received a deep hurt. But again he drew himself up sternly, and so remained, not leaving his seat nor THAT WHICH EEMAINED 437 turning toward the window, beyond which could now be heard the sound of shouting, and cries whose confused and threatening tones might have given ground for the gravest apprehension. At length the Swiss again reported, much agitated and shaken from his ordinary self-control.. "Monsieur," said he, "come. I have at last the coach at the door. Hasten, Monsieur; a crowd is gathering. Indeed, we may meet violence." Law seemed not to hear him, but sat for a time, his head still bowed, his eyes gazing straight before him. "But, Monsieur," again broke in the Swiss, anxiously, "if I may interrupt, there is need to has ten. There will be a mob. Our guard is gone." "So," said Law. "They were afraid?" "Surely. They fled forthwith when they heard the people below crying out at the house. They are indeed threatening death to yourself. They cry that they will burn the house that should you ap pear, they will have your blood at once." "And are you not afraid ?" asked Law. "I am here. Does not Monsieur fear for him self?" Law shrugged his shoulders. "There are many of them, and we are but two," said he. "For your self, go you down the back way and care for your 438 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE own safety. I will go out the front and meet these good people. Are we quite ready for the journey?" "Quite ready, as you have directed." "Have you the two valises, with the one change of clothing?" "They are here." "And have you the fifty louis, as I stated?" "Here in the purse." "And I think you have also the single diamond." "It is here." "Then," said Law, "let us go." He rose, and scarce looking behind him, even to see that his orders to the servant had been obeyed, he strode down the vast stairway of the great hotel, past many precious works of art, between walls hung with richest tapestries and noble paintings. The click of his heel on a chance bit of exposed marble here and there echoed hollow, as though indeed the master of the palace had been abandoned by all his people. The great building was silent, empty. "What ! Are you, then, here ?" he said, seeing the servant had disobeyed his instructions and was fol lowing close behind him. He alone out of those scores of servants, those hundreds of fawning no bles, those thousands of sycophant souls who had but lately cringed before him, now accompanied the THAT WHICH REMAINED 439 late master of France as he turned to leave the house in which he no longer held authority. Without, but the door's thickness from where he stood, there arose a tumult of sound, shouts, cries, imprecations, entreaties, as though the walls of some asylum for the unfortunate had broken away and allowed its inmates to escape unrestrained, irre claimable, impossible to control. "Down with Jean L'as! Down with Jean L'as!" rose a cadenced, rhythmic shout, the accord of a mob of Paris beating into its tones. And this steady burden was broken by the cries of "Enter! En ter! Break down the door! Kill the monster! Assassin! Thief! Traitor !" No word of the vo cabulary of scorn and loathing was wanting in their cries. Hearing these ories, the face of this fighting man now grew hot with anger, and now it paled with grief and sorrow. Yet he faltered not, but stepped on, confidently. The Swiss opened the door and stood at the head of the flight of stairs. Tall, calm, pale, fearless, John Law stood facing the angry mob, his eyes shining brightly. He laid his hand for an instant upon his sword, yet it was but to un buckle the belt. The weapon he left leaning against the wall, and so stepped on down toward the crowd. He was met by a rush of excited men and women, 440 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE screaming, cursing, giving vent to inarticulate and indistinguishable speech. A man laid his hand upon his shoulder. Law caught the hand, and with a swift wrench of the wrist, threw the owner of it to the ground. At this the others gave back, and for half a moment silence ensued. The mob lacked just the touch of rage to hurl themselves upon him. He raised his hand and motioned them aside. "Are you not Jean L'as?" cried one dame, ex citedly, waving in his face a handful of the paper shares of the latest issue in the Company of the Indies. "Are you not Jean L'as? Tell me, then, where is my money for these things? What shall I get for this rotten paper?" "You are Jean L'as, the director-general !" cried a man, pushing up to his side. "'Twas you that ruined the Company. See! Here is all that I have!" He wept as he shook his bunch of paper Iii John Law's face. "Last week I was worth half a million!" He wept, and tore across, with impo tent rage, the bundle of worthless paper. "Down with Jean L'as ! Down with Jean L'as !" came the recurrent cry. A rush followed. The car riage, towering above the ring of the surrounding crowd, showed its coat of arms, and thus was recog nized. A paving-stone crashed through its heavy THAT WHICH REMAINED 441 window. A knife ripped up the velvets of the cushions. The coachman was pulled from his box. The horses, plunging with terror, were cut loose from the pole and led away. With shouts and cries of rage and busy zeal, one madman vied with another in tearing, cutting and destroying the vehicle, until it stood there ruined, without means of locomotion, defaced and useless. And still the ring of desperate humanity closed around him who had late been mas ter of all France. "What do you want, my friends?" asked he, calmly, as for an instant there came a lull in the tumult. He stood looking at them curiously now, his dulling eyes regarding them as though they pre sented some new and interesting study. "What is it that you desire?" he repeated. "We want our money," cried a score of voices. "We want back that which you have stolen." "You are not exact," replied Law, calmly. "I have not your money, nor yet have I stolen it. If you have suffered by this foolish panic, you do not mend matters by thus treating me. By heaven, you go the wrong way to get anything from me! Out of the way, you canaille! Do you think to frighten me? I made your city. I made you all. Now, do you think to frighten me, John. Law?" 442 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE "Oh! You would go away, you want to escape!" cried the voices of those near at hand. "We will see as to that !" Again they fell upon the carriage, and still they hemmed him in the closer. "True, I am going away," said Law. "But you can not say that I tried to steal away without your knowing it. There, up the stairs, are my papers. You will see in time that I have concealed nothing. Now I am going to leave Paris, it is true ; but not because I am afraid to stay here. 'Tis for other reason, and reason of mine own." "'Twas you who ruined Paris this city which you now seek to leave !" shrieked the dame who had spoken before, still shaking her useless bank-notes in her hand. "Oh, very well, my friend. For the argument, let us agree upon that," said Law. "You ruined our Company, our beautiful Com pany !" cried another. "Certainly. Since I was the originator of it, that follows as matter of reason," replied Law. "Ah, he admits it! He admits it!" cried yet another. "Don't let him escape. Kill him ! Down with Jean L'as !" "We are going to kill you precisely here!" cried THAT WHICH REMAINED 443 a huge fellow, brandishing a paving-stone before his eyes. "You are not fit to live." "As to that," said Law, "I agree with you per fectly. My hand upon it; I am not fit to live. I have found that I made mistakes. I have found that there is nothing left to desire. I have found out that all this money is not worth the having. I have found out so many things, my very dear friends, that I quite agree with you. For if one must want to live before he is fit to live, then indeed I am not fit. But what then?" "Kill him ! Kill him ! Strike him down !" cried out a voice back of the giant with the menacing paving-stone. "Oh, very well, my friends," resumed the object of their fury, flicking again with his old, careless gesture at the deep cuff of his wrist. "As you like in regard to that. More than one man has offered me that happiness in the past, yet it was many a long year since any man could trouble me by announcing that he was about to kill me." Something in the attitude of the man stayed the hands of the most dangerous members of the mob. Yet ever there came the cry from back of them. "Down with Jean L'as! He has mined every thing 1" 444 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE "Friends," responded Law to this cry, bitterly, "you little know how true you speak. It was in deed John Law who brought ruin to everything. It was indeed he who threw away what was worth more than all the gold in France. It is indeed he who has failed, and failed most utterly. You can not frighten John Law, but you may do as you like with him, for surely he has failed!" The bitterness of despair was in his tones. Then, perhaps, the sullen, savage crowd had wrought their last act of anger and revenge on him, had it not been for a sudden change in that tide of ill fortune that now seemed to carry him forward to his doom. There came a sound of far-off cries, a distant clack ing of hoofs, the clatter of steel, many shouts, en treaties and commands. The close-packed crowd which filled the open space in front of the hotel writhed, twisted, turned and would have sought to resolve itself into groups and individuals. Some cried out that the troops were coming. A detach ment of the king's household, sent out to disperse these dangerous gatherings, came full front down the street, as had so often come the arm of the military in this turbulent old city of Paris. Ee- morselessly they rode over and through the mob, driving them, dispersing them. A moment later, THAT WHICH REMAINED 445 and Law stood almost alone at the steps of his own house. The squadron wheeled, headed by an officer, who rode upon him with sword uplifted as though to cut him down. Law raised his hand at this new menace. "Stop !" he cried. "I am the cause of this riot ing. I am John Law." "What! Monsieur L'as?" cried the lieutenant. "So the people have found you, have they ?" "It would so seem. They have destroyed my car riage, and they would have killed me," replied Law. "But I perceive it is Captain Mirabec. 'Twas I who got you your commission, as you may remember." "Is it so ?" replied the other, with a grin. "I have no recollection; Since you are Jean L'as, the late director-general, the pity is I did not let the people kill you. You are the cause of the ruin of us all, the cause of my own ruin. Three days more, and I had been a major-general. I had nearly the sum in actions ready to pay over at the right place. By our Lady of Grace, I am minded to run you through myself, for a greater villain never set foot in France!" "Monsieur, I am about to leave France," said Law. "Oh, you would leave us ? You would run away ?" 446 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE "As you like. But most of all, I am now very weary. I would not remain here longer talking. Henri, where are you?" The faithful Swiss, who had remained close to his employer all the time, and who had been not far from his side during the scenes just concluded, was in a moment at his side. He hardly reached his master too soon, for as he passed his arm about him, the head of Law sank wearily forward. He might, perhaps, have sunk to the ground had he lacked a supporting arm. At this moment there came again the sound of hoofs upon the pavement. There was the rush of a mounted outrider, and hard after him sped the horses of a carriage, whose driver pulled up close at the curb and scarce clear of the little group gathered there. The door of the coach was opened, and at it appeared the figure of a woman, who quickly descended from the step. "What is it?" she cried. "Is not this the resi dence of Monsieur Law?" The officer saluted, and the few loiterers gave back and made room, as she stepped fully into the street and advanced with decision towards those whom she saw. "Madam," replied the Swiss, "this is the resi dence of Monsieur L'as, and this is Monsieur L'as himself. I fear he is taken suddenly ill." THAT WHICH EEMAINED 447 The lady stepped quickly to his side. As she did so, Law, as one not fully hearing, half raised his head. He looked full into her face, and releasing himself from the arms of his servant, stood thus, staring directly at the visitor, his face haggard, his fixed eyes hearing no sign of actual recognition. "Catharine ! Catharine !" he exclaimed. "Oh God, how cruel of you too to mock me! Catharine!" The unspeakable yearning of the cry went to the heart of her who heard it. She put out a hand and laid it on his forehead. The Swiss motioned toward the house. And even as the officer wheeled his troop to depart, these two again ascended the steps, half carrying between them a stumbling man, who but repeated mumblingly to himself the same words : "Mockery ! Mockery I" 'CHAPTER XIII THE QUALITY OF MERCY Within the great house there was silence, for the vistas of the wide interior led far back from the street and its tumult; nor did there arise within the walls any sound of voice or footfall. Of the entire household there was but one left to do the master service. They entered the great hall, passed the foot of the wide stairway, and turned at the first entresol, where were seats and couches. The servant paused for a moment and looked inquiringly at the lady with whom he now found himself in company. "The times are serious," he began. "I would not intrude, Madame, yet perhaps you are aware " "I am a friend of monsieur," replied Lady Catha rine. "He is ill. See, he is not himself. Tell me, what is this illness?" "Madame," said the Swiss, gravely, "his illness is that of grief. Monsieur's failure sits heavily upon him." (448) THE QUALITY OF MERCY 449 "How long is it since he slept?" asked the lady, for she noted the drooping head of the man now reclining upon the couch. "Not for many days and nights," replied the Swiss. "He has for the last few days been under much strain. But shall I not assist you, Madame? You are, perhaps pardon me, since I do not know your relationship with monsieur " "A friend of years ago. I knew Mr. Law when he lived in England." "I perceive. Perhaps Madame would be alone for a time ? If you please, I will seek aid." They approached the side of the couch. Law's head lay back upon the cushions. His breath came deeply and slowly, not stertorously nor labored. "How strange," whispered the Swiss, "he sleeps !" Such was indeed the truth. The iron nature, so long overwrought, now utterly unstrung, had yielded for the first time to the stress of nature and of events. The relief from what he had taken to be death had come swiftly, and the reaction brought a lethal calm of its own. If he had indeed recog nized the face of the woman who had touched him with her hand, it was as though he had witnessed her in a vision, a dream bitter and troubled, since it was a dream impossible to be true. The Swiss looked still hesitatingly at the lady 450 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE who had thus strangely come upon the scene, notic ing her sweet and tender mouth, her cheeks just faintly tinged with pink, her eyes shining with a soft, mysterious radiance. She approached the couch and laid hoth her hands upon the face of the unconscious man. Tears sprang within her eyes and fell from her dark lashes. The old servant looked up at her, simply. "Madame would he alone with monsieur?" asked he. "It will be better." Lady Catharine Knollys, left alone, gazed upon the sleeper. John Law, the failure, lay there, su pine, abased, cast-down, undone, shorn utterly of his old arrogance of mind and mien. Fortune, wealth, even the boon of physical well-being all had fled from him. The pride of a superb man hood had departed from the lines of this limp fig ure. The cheeks were lined and sunken, the eye, even had the lid not covered it, lacked the late convincing fire. No longer commanding, no longer strong, no longer gay and debonair, he lay, a man whose fate was failure, as he himself had said. The woman who stood with clasped hands, gazing at him, tears welling in her eyes she, so closely linked to his every thought for these many years well enough she knew the story of his boundless ambitions, now so swiftly ended. Well enough, too, THE QUALITY OF MERCY 451 she knew the shortcomings of this mortal man before her. Even as she had in her mirror looked into her own soul, so now she saw deep into his heart as he lay there, helpless, making no further plea for himself, urging no claim, making no explana tions nor denials, no asseverations, no promises. Did she indeed see and recognize again, as sometimes gloriously happens in this poor life of ours, that other and inner man, the only one fit to touch a woman's hand the man who might have been? Did she see this, and greet again the friend of long ago? God, who hath given mercy, remedy alone sufficing for the ill that men may do, He alone may know these things. Could John Law failing be John Law succeeding, and in his most sublime success? Upon the wreck and ruin of the old nature could there grow another and a better man? Mayhap the answer to this was what the eye of woman saw. How else could there have come into this great room, so late the scene of turbulent activities, this vast and soothing calm? How else could this man's breath come now so deep and regular and content? The angels of God may know, they who drop down the gentle dew of heaven. An hour passed by. A soft tread came to the door, but Henri heard no sound, and saw only the prone figure of the sleeper, and beside it the form 452 THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE of the woman, who still held his hand in her own. Still the hours wore on, and still the watch con tinued., there under the mysteries of Life and of Love, of Mercy and of Forgiveness. And so at last the gray dawn broke again. The panes of the high mullioned windows were tinged with splashes of color. The pale light crept into the room, slowly revealing and lighting up its splendors. With the dawn there came into the heart of Catharine Knollys a flood of light and joy. Why, she knew not ; how, she cared not ; yet she knew that the shadows were gone. The same tide of peace and calm might have swept into the bosom of the man before her. He stirred, moved. His eyes opened wide, in their gaze wonder and disbelief, yet hope and longing. "Catharine," he murmured, "Catharine! Is it you? Catharine! Dear Kate!" She bent over and softly kissed his face. "Dear heart," she whispered, "I have loved you always. Awake. The day has come. There is another world before us. See, I have come to you, dear heart, for Faith, and for Love, and for Hope !" THE END A LIST OF RECENT FICTION OF THE BOWEN-MERRILL COMPANY A NEW NOTE IN FICTION. THE STROLLERS By FREDERIC S. ISHAM "The Strollers'* is a novel of much merit. The scenes are laid in that picturesque and interesting period of American life the last of the stage-coach days the days of the strolling player. The author, Frederic S. Isham, gives a delightful and accurate account of a troop of players making a circuit in the wilderness from New York to New Orleans, travelling by stage, carrying one wagon load of scenery, playing in town halls, taverns, barns or whatnot. " The Strollers " is a new note in fiction. With eight illustrations by Harrison Fisher i2mo. Price, $1.50. The Bowen-Merrill Company, Indianapolis AN INTERESTING STORY OF FAMILY LIFE. THE FIGHTING BISHOP By HERBERT M. HOPKINS "The Fighting Bishop" is drawn with firm, bold strokes and with a sufficiently scholarly atmosphere to make the picture life like. There is wisdom too, in the attitude of the author toward his characters ; and the entire atmosphere of the book is of fine quality. The general accuracy and vividness of the portraiture are likely to impress everyone. * * * It contains passages and characterizations that some readers will find it difficult to forget. The Hartford Caurant. The bishop's musical son, Stephen's, obstinate vanity, bis irritable nervous nature, his impatience of advice and his wonderful confidence in his own genius are admirably brought out in the course of the narrative and the chapter containing his letters to his brother is one of the best in the book. It shows his character humorously and without exaggeration, and this is typical of the whole story. The author sees his personages with a human sympathic eye. New York Sun. 12 mo. Cloth, ornamental, $1.50 The Bowen-Merrill Company, Indianapolis. is fresh and spontaneous, having nothing of that wooden quality which is becoming associated with the term " historical novel." HEARTS COURAGEOUS By HALLIE ERMINIE RIVES " Hearts Courageous " is made of new material, a pic turesque yet delicate style, good plot and very dramatic situations. The best in the book are the defence of George Washington by the Marquis ; the duel between the English officer and the Marquis ; and Patrick Henry flinging the brand of war into the assembly of the burgesses of Virginia. Williamsburg, Virginia, the country round about, and the life led in that locality just before the Revolution, form an attractive setting for the action of the story. With six illustrations by A. B. Wenzell izmo. Price, $1.50 The Bowen-Merrill Company, Indianapolis A VIVID WESTERN STORY OF LOVE AND POLITICS THE 1 3 DISTRICT By BRAND WHITLOCK This is a story of high order. By its scope and strength it deserves to be spoken of as a novel and that word has been very much abused by hanging it to any old thing. It is a wonderfully good and interesting account of the workings of politics from before the primaries on through election, with a splendid love story also woven into it. One would think for instance, that it would be impossible to give an account of a "primary " and keep it interesting; it is natural to suppose a writer would become entangled with the dull routine of it all, but he does not, he makes it inter esting. He shows the tricks, the heat, the passion, the tumult ; the weariness and stubborness of a dead lock. The descriptions of society life in the book are equally good. i2mo. Price, $1.50 The Bowen-Merrill Company, Indianapolis ''NOTHING BUT PRAISE" LAZARRE By MARY HARTWELL CATHERWOOD Glorified by a beautiful love story. Chicago Tribune. We feel quite justified in predicting a wide-spread and prolonged popularity for this latest comer into the ranks of historical fiction. The N. Y. Commercial Advertiser. After all the material for the story had been collected a year was required for the writing of it. It is an historical romance of the better sort, with stirring situations, good bits of character drawing and a satisfactory knowledge of the tone and atmosphere of the period involved. N. Y. Herald. Lazarre, is no less a person than the Dauphin, Louis XVII. of France, and a right royal hero he makes. A prince who, for the sake of his lady, scorns perils in two hemis pheres, facing the wrath of kings in Europe and the bullets of savages in America; who at the last spurns a kingdom that he may wed her freely here is one to redeem the sins of even those who "never learn and never iorget." Philadelphia North A merican. With six Illustrations by Andr Castaigne 12 mo. Price, $1.50. The Bowen-Merrill Company, Indianapolis A VIVACIOUS ROMANCE OF REVOLU TIONARY DAYS ALICE o/OLD VINCENNES By MAURICE THOMPSON The Atlanta Constitution says : " Mr. Thompson, whose delightful writings in prose and verse have made his reputation national, has achieved his master stroke of genius in this historical novel of revolu tionary days in the West." The Denver Daily Newt says ' " There are three great chapters of fiction t Scott's tourna ment on Ashby field, General Wallace's chariot race, and now Maurice Thompson's duel scene and the raising of Alice's flag over old Fort Vmcennes." The Chicago Times-Herald says ' tl More original than 'Richard Carvel,' more cohesive than 'To Have and To Hold,' more vital than 'Janice Mere dith,' such is Maurice Thompson's superb American ro mance, 'Alice of Old Vincennes.' It is, in addition, more artistic and spontaneous than any of its rivals." VIRGINIA HARNED EDITION i2mo., with six illustrations drawn by F. C. Yohn and a frontispiece in color by Howard Chandler Christy Price, $1.50 The Bowen-Merrill Company, Indianapolis A STORY BY THE "MARCH KING" THE FIFTH STRING By JOHN PHILIP SOUSA The " March King" has written much in a musical way, but " The Fifth String " is his first published story. In the choice of his subject, as the title indicates, Mr. Sousa has remained faithful to his art; and the great public, that has learned to love him for the marches he has made, will be as delighted with his pen as with his baton. "The Fifth String" has a strong and clearly defined plot which shows in its treatment the author's artistically sensitive temperament and his tremendous dramatic power. It is a story of a marvelous violin, of a wonderful love and of a strange temptation. A cover, especially designed, and six full-page illustra tions by Howard Chandler Christy, serve to give the dis tinguishing decorative embellishments that this first book by Mr. Sousa so richly deserves. With Pictures by Howard Chandler Christy 12 mo. Price, $1.25 The Bowen-Merrill Company, Indianapolis "A NOVEL THAT'S WORTH WHILE" The REDEMPTION of DAVID CORSON By CHARLES FREDERIC GOSS A Mid-century American Novel of Intense Power and Interest The Interior says : " This is a book that is worth while. Though it tells of weakness and wickedness, of love and license, of revenge and remorse in an intensely interesting way, yet it is above all else a clean and pure story. No one can read it and honestly ask 'what's the use.' " Newell Dvvigbt Hillis, Pastor of Plymouth Church, Brooklyn, says : ~ " ' The Redemption of David Corson' strikes a strong, healthy, buoyant note." Dr. F. W. Gunsaulus, President Armour Institute, says : "Mr. Goss writes with the truthfulness of light. He has told a story in which the fact of sin is illuminated with the utmost truthfulness and the fact of redemption is portrayed with extraordinary power. There are lines of greatness in the book which I shall never forget." President M. W. Stryker, Hamilton College, says : " It is a victory in writing for one whose head seems at last to have matched his big human heart. There is ten times as much of reality in it as there is in ' David Harum,' which does not value lightly that admirable charcoal sketch." Price, $1.50 THe Bowen-Merrill Company, Indianapolis "THE MERRIEST NOVEL OF MANY, MANY MOONS." MY LADY PEGGY GOES TO TOWN By FRANCES AYMAR MATHEWS The Daintiest and Most Delightful Book of the Season. A heroine almost too charming to be true is Peggy, and it were a churlish reader who is not. at the end of the first chapter, prostrate betore her red slippers. Washington Post. To make a comparison would be to rank "My Lady Peggy" with "Monsieur Beaucaire" in points of attraction, and to applaud as heartily as that delicate romance, this picture of the days " When patches nestled o'er sweet lips at chocolate times." .W. Y. Mail and Express. 12 mo. Beautifully illustrated and bound. Price, $1.25 net The Bowen-Merrill Company, Indianapolis "AS CRISP AND CLEAN CUT AS A NEW MINTAGE." THE PUPPET CROWN BY HAROLD MxcGRATH A princess rarely beautiful; a duchess magnificent and heartless; a villain revengeful and courageous; a hero youth ful, humorous, fearless and truly American; such are the principal characters of this delightful story. Syracuse Post- Standard. Harold MacGrath has attained the highest point achiev able in recent fiction. We have the climax of romance and adventure in "The Puppet Crown." The Philadelphia. North A tnerican. Superior to most of the great successes. St. Paul Pioneer Press. "The Puppet Crown" is a profusion of cleverness. Bal timore A merican. Challenges comparison with authors whose names have become immortal Chicago American. Latest entry in the list of winners. Cleveland World. With illustrations by R. Martine Reay i2mo. Price, $1.50. The Bowen-Merrill Company, Indianapolis " AN ADMIRABLE SOCIAL STUDY " THE FALL OF THE CURTAIN By HAROLD BEGBIE The purpose of this brilliant story of modern English life is to show that a human being, well brought-up, carefully trained in the outward observances of religion, with a keen intellectual perception of the difference between right and wrong, may still not have goodness, and that ambition may easily become the dominating force in such a character. So the book may be called a purpose novel, but in reading it, one no more thinks of applying so discredited an epithet to it than one would think of applying it to "Vanity Fair." The author possesses an admirable style, clear, unaffected, strong. To the discriminating public, -the book is certain to give far more pleasure than that public usually gets from a new novel. With a Frontispiece by C. Allan Gilbert Cloth, 12 mo. Ornamental, $1.25 Net. Postage, 12 Cents The Bowen-Merrill Company, Indianapolis FULL of INCIDENT, ACTION fcf COLOR LIKE ANOTHER HELEN By GEORGE HORTON Mr. Morton's powerful romance stands in a new field and brings an almost unknown world in reality before the reader the world of conflict between Greek and Turk. The island of Crete seems real and genuine after reading this book; not a mere spot on the map. The tragic and pathetic troubles of this people are told with sympathetic force. Mr. Horton employs a vivid style that keeps the interest alive and many passages are rilled with delicate poetic feeling. Things happen and the story moves. The characters are well conceived and are human and convincing. Beyond ques tion Mr. Horton's fine story is destined to take high rank among the books of the day. With illustrations by C. M. Relyea I zrno, Cloth bound Price, $1.50 The Chicago Times-Herald says : " Here are chapters that are Stephen Crane plus sympathy; chapters of illuminated description fragrant with the at mosphere of art. ' ' The Bowen- Merrill Company, Indianapolis "A CHRONICLE OF MARVELS" THE FIRST MEN IN THE MOON By H. G. WELLS Author of "The War of the Worlds" and "Tales of Time and Space." Mr. Wells writes to entertain and in this tale of the invention of " cavorite," and the subsequent remarkable journey made to the moon by its inventor, he has succeeded beyond measure in alternately astounding, convincing and delighting his readers. Told in a straightforward way, with an air of ingenuousness that disarms doubt, the story chronicles most marvelous discoveries and adventures on the mysterious planet. Mr. Bering's many illustrations are admirable. Altogether the book is one of the most original and entertaining volumes that has appeared in many a day. Profusely Illustrated by E. Hering i2mo., cloth, $1.50 The Bowen-Merrill Company, Indianapolis "AN INDIANA LOVE STORY' ROSALYNDE'S LOVERS By MAURICE THOMPSON Author of "Alice of Old Vincennes" As Mr. Thompson avers, this is "only a love story," but it is a story of such sweetness and wholesome life that it will at once claim a permanent home in our affections. The love of nature, so prominent a characteristic of Mr. Thompson, is reflected throughout and the thunderstorm and following gleam of sun, the country garden and southern lake are each in turn invested with a personality that wins our instant sympathy. Rosalynde Banderet is winsome and artless, her lovers are human and manly, and her final happiness is ours. Mr. Peirson's many pictures are entirely worthy. With many Illustrations and Decorations by G. Alden Peirson Ornamental i2mo. Cloth Bound, $1.50 The Bowen-Merrill Company, Indianapolis ANOTHER SUCCESSFUL HISTORICAL NOVEL THE BLACK WOLF'S BREED By HARRIS DICKSON From the Boston Globe : " A vigorous tale of France in the old and new world during the reign of Louis XIV." From the Philadelphia Press : " As delightfully seductive as certain mint-flavored beverages they make down South." From the Los Angeles Herald : " The sword-play is great, even finer than the pictures in To Have and To Hold.' " From the San Francisco Chronicle: " As fine a piece of sustained adventure as has appeared in recent fiction." From the St. Louis Globe-Democrat : " There is action, vivid description and intensely dramatic situations." From the Indianapolis News: " So full offender love-making, of gallant fighting, that one regrets it's no longer." Illustrated by C. M. Relyea. Price $1.50 The Bowen-Merrill Company, Indianapolis "IN LONDON OF LONG AGO" THE FICKLE WHEEL By HENRY THEW STEPHENSON In this tale of merry England, of the time when Shakespeare jested and Ben Johnson blustered, Mr. Stephenson has painted for us a picture informing and above all entertaining. His is not a story of counts and crowns, but of the ever interesting common people. Without seeming to do so the author shows us many interesting bits of the life of the day. We go to Paul's walk, we see Shakespeare play at the Globe theatre and other such glimpses of old time London are deftly added to our experiences. Throughout the book is an evanescent charm, a spirit of wholesome gaiety. It is well worth while. With illustrations by C. M. Relyea Cloth, Ornamental, 12 mo. Price, $1.50 The Bowen-Merrill Company, Indianapolis "DIFFICULT TO FORGET" A FEARSOME RIDDLE By MAX EHRMAN This mystery story, based on the theory of the arithmetical rhythm of time, contains much of the same fascination that attaches to the tales of Poe. Simply told, yet dramatic and powerful in its unique conception, it has a convincing ring that is most impressive. The reader can not evade a haunting conviction that this wonderful experiment must in reality have taken place. Delightful to read, difficult to forget, the book must evoke a wide discussion. With Pictures by Virginia Keep 12 mo. Cloth, $1.00 The Bowen-Merrill Company, Indianapolis A STORY OF THE MORGAN RAID, DURING THE WAR tf the REBELLION THE LEGIONARIES By HENRY SCOTT CLARK The Mempbit Commercial-appeal sayi : "The backbone of the story is Morgan's great raid one of the most romantic and reckless pieces of adventure ever attempted in the history of the world. Mr. Clark's descrip tion of the Ride of the Three Thousand is a piece of litera ture that deserves to live ; and is as fine in its way as the chariot race from * Ben Hur.* " The Cincinnati Commercial-Tribune tayt i " ' The Legionaries * is pervaded with what seems to be the true spirit of artistic impartiality. The author is simply a narrator. He stands aside, regarding with equal eye all the issues involved and the scales dip not in his hands. To sum up, the first romance of the new day on the Ohio is an eminently readable one a good yarn well spun." The Rochester Herald tayt : "The appearance of a new novel in the West marks an epoch in fiction relating to the war between the sections for the preservation of the Union. 'The Legionaries* is a remarkable book, and we can scarcely credit the assurance that it is the work of a new writer." 1 2mo, illustrated Price, $1.50 The Bowen - Merrill Company, Indianapolis VIGOROUS, ELEMENTAL, DRAMATIC A HEART OF FLAME The story of a Master Passion BY CHARLES FLEMING EMBREE Author of "A Dream of a Throne." The men and women in this story are children of the soil. Their strength is tn their nearness to nature. Their minds are vigorous, their bodies powerful, their passions elemental, their courage sublime. They are loyal in friend ship, persistent in enmity, determined in purpose. The story is a story of great wrongs and of supreme love. It is done in black and white, with few strokes, but they are masterly. The shadows at the back are somber but the value of contrast is appreciated for the vivid high light in the foreground. It is a work of art powerful, convincing and abiding. Powerful, because true to life; convincing, for it has the saving touch of humo*; and abiding because love, like "A Heart of Flame," prevails in the end. With illustrations by Dan Smith izmo. cloth. Price, $1.50. The Bowen-Merrill Company,, Indianapolis UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. Form L9-Series 4939 , PLEASE DO NOT REMOVE ^ : | ^ THIS BOOK CARDZl ;' j i rill jj , '- mu IMJ , ^ 1 111 j] { PS i: ^^BRARYQ^ ^ 1 ji \ 3515 -- ^ T 1^ 1 1 "^ r-n | _!_/ H8lmi S s 3 = U_J _J 1 5 / z -^ U, ! 1902 a c K ^y\i s i T "1 IP* cop. 2 s i nJITVT J^N^ ' n - s ' /rjjj " s i tt s University Research Library o H 1 ru S < j* ft a i at - i TJ 8 i H 8 H _! ] < , , 8 I - ,Q ! T'LOI I if