the lone château

despite his courage and the new resolution that he had acquired during his long months on the island, robert's heart often sank. they seemed to make no progress with the siege of quebec. just so far had they gone and they could go no farther. the fortress of france in the new world appeared impregnable. there it was, cut clear against the sky, the light shining on its stone buildings, proud and defiant, saying with every new day to those who attacked it that it could not be taken, while montcalm, de levis, bougainville, st. luc and the others showed all their old skill in defense. they heard too that bourlamaque after his retreat from ticonderoga and crown point was sitting securely within his lines and intrenchments at isle-aux-noix and that the cautious amherst would delay longer and yet longer.

it was now certain that no help could be expected from amherst and his strong army that year. the most that he would do would be to keep bourlamaque and his men from coming to the relief of quebec. so far as the capital of new france was concerned the issue must be fought out by the forces now gathered there for the defense and the offense, the french and the indians against the english and the americans.

robert realized more keenly every day that the time[pg 285] was short and becoming shorter. hot summer days were passing, nights came on crisp and cool, the foliage along the king of rivers and its tributaries began to glow with the intense colors of decay, there was more than a touch of autumn in the air. they must be up and doing before the fierce winter came down on quebec. military operations would be impossible then.

in this depressing time robert drew much courage from charteris, who had been a prisoner a long time in quebec, and who understood even more thoroughly than young lennox the hollowness of the french power in north america.

"it is upheld by a few brave and skillful men and a small but heroic army," he said. "in effect, new france has been deserted by the bourbon monarchy. if it were not for the extraordinary situation of quebec, adapted so splendidly to purposes of defense, we could crush the marquis de montcalm in a short time. the french regulars are as good as any troops in the world and they will fight to the last, but the canadian militia is not disciplined well, and is likely to break under a fierce attack. you know, lennox, what militiamen always are, no matter to what nation they belong. they may fight and die like heroes at one time, and, at another time, they may run away at the first fire, struck with panic. what we want is a fair chance at the french army in the open. general wolfe himself, though cursed by much illness, never loses hope. i've had occasion to talk with him more than once owing to my knowledge of quebec and the surrounding country, and there's a spirit for you, lennox. it's in an ugly body but no man was ever animated by a finer temper and courage."

robert and charteris formed a great friendship, a true friendship that lasted all their long lives. but then[pg 286] robert had a singular faculty for making friends. charteris interested him vastly. he had a proud, reserved and somewhat haughty nature. many people thought him exclusive, but robert soon learned that his fastidiousness was due to a certain shy quality, and a natural taste for the best in everything. under his apparent coldness lay a brave and staunch nature and an absolute integrity.

robert's interest in charteris was heightened by the delicate cloud of romance that floated about him, a cloud that rose from the hints thrown forth now and then by zebedee crane. the young french lady in quebec who loved him was as beautiful as the dawn and she had the spirit of a queen. charteris lived in the hope that they might take quebec and her with it. but robert was far too fine of feeling ever to allude to such an affair of the heart to charteris, or in truth to any one else.

it was a period of waiting and yet it was a period of activity. the partisans were incessant in their ways. robert heard that his old friend, langlade, was leading a numerous band against the english, and the evidences of tandakora's murderous ferocity multiplied. nor were the outlying french themselves safe from him. news arrived that he intended an attack upon a château called chatillard farther up the river but within the english lines. a band of the new england rangers, led by willet, was sent to drive him off, and to destroy the ojibway pest, if possible. robert, tayoga and zeb crane went with him.

they arrived at the château just before twilight. it was a solid stone building overlooking the st. lawrence, and the lands about it had a narrow frontage on the river, but it ran back miles after the old french custom in making such grants, in order that every estate might[pg 287] have a river landing. willet's troops numbered about forty men, and, respecting the aged m. de chatillard, who was quite ill and in bed, they did not for the present go into the house, eating their own supper on the long, narrow lawn, which was thick with dwarfed and clipped pines and other shrubbery.

but they lighted no fires, and they kept very quiet, since they wished for tandakora to walk into an ambush. the information, most of which had been obtained by zeb crane, was to the effect that tandakora believed a guard of english soldiers was in the house. after his custom he would swoop down upon them, slaughter them, and then be up and away. it was a trick in which the savage heart of the ojibway delighted, and he had achieved it more than once.

the august night came down thick and dark. a few lights shone in the château de chatillard, but willet and his rangers stood in black gloom. almost at their feet the great st. lawrence flowed in its mighty channel, a dim blue under the dusky sky. nothing was visible there save the slow stream, majestic, an incalculable weight of water. nothing appeared upon its surface, and the far shore was lost in the night. it seemed to robert, despite the stone walls of the château by their side, that they were back in the wilderness. it was a northern wilderness too. the light wind off the river made him shiver.

the front door of the house opened and a figure outlined against the light appeared. it was an old man in a black robe, tall, thin and ascetic, and robert seeing him so clearly in the light of a lamp that he held in his hand recognized him at once. it was father philibert drouillard, the same whom he had defeated in the test of ora[pg 288]tory in the vale of onondaga before the wise sachems, when so much depended on victory.

"father drouillard!" he exclaimed impulsively, stepping forward out of the shadows.

"who is it who speaks?" asked the priest, holding the lamp a little higher.

"father drouillard, don't you know me?" exclaimed robert, advancing within the circle of light.

"ah, it is young lennox!" said the priest. "what a meeting! and under what circumstances!"

"and there are others here whom you know," said robert. "look, this is david willet who commands us, and here also is tayoga, whom you remember in the vale of onondaga."

father drouillard saluted them gravely.

"you are the enemies of my country," he said, "but i will not deny that i am glad to see you here. i understand that the savage, tandakora, means to attack this house to-night, thinking that it holds a british garrison. well, it seems that he will not be far wrong in his thought."

a ghost of a smile flickered over the priest's pale face.

"a garrison but not the garrison that he expects to destroy," said willet. "tandakora fights nominally under the flag of france, but as you know, father, he fights chiefly to gratify his own cruel desires."

"i know it too well. come inside. m. de chatillard wishes to see you."

willet, robert, tayoga and zeb crane went in, and were shown into the bedroom where the seigneur louis henri anatole de chatillard, past ninety years of age, lay upon his last bed. he was a large, handsome old man, fair like so many of the northern french, and his dying eyes were full of fire. two women of middle[pg 289] years, his granddaughters, knelt weeping by each side of his bed, and two servants, tears on their faces, stood at the foot. willet and his comrades halted respectfully at the door.

"step closer," said the old man, "that i may see you well."

the four entered and stood within the light shed by two tall candles. the old man gazed at them a long time in silence, but finally he said:

"and so the english have come at last."

"we're not english, m. de chatillard," said willet, "we're americans, bostonnais, as you call us."

"it is the same. you are but the children of the english and you fight together against us. you increase too fast in the south. you thrive in your towns and in the woods, and you send greater and greater numbers against us. but you cannot take quebec. the capital of new france is inviolate."

willet said nothing. how could he argue with a man past ninety who lay upon his dying bed?

"you cannot take quebec," repeated m. de chatillard, rising, strength showing in his voice. "the bostonnais have come before. it was in frontenac's time nearly three-quarters of a century ago, when phipps and his armada from new england arrived before quebec. i was but a lad then newly come from france, but the great governor, frontenac, made ready for them. we had batteries in the sault-au-matelot on palace hill, on mount carmel, before the jesuits' college, in the lower town and everywhere. three-quarters of a century ago did i say? no, it was yesterday! i remember how we fought. frontenac was a great man as montcalm is!"

"peace, m. de chatillard," said father drouillard[pg 290] soothingly. "you speak of old, old times and old, old things!"

"they were the days of my youth," said the old man, "and they are not old to me. it was a great siege, but the valor of france and canada were not to be overcome. the armies and ships of the bostonnais went back whence they came, and the new invasion of the bostonnais will have no better fate."

willet was still silent. he saw that the old siege of quebec was much more in m. de chatillard's mind than the present one, and if he could pass away in the odor of triumph the hunter would not willingly change it.

"who is the youth who stands near you?" said m. de chatillard, looking at robert.

"he is robert lennox of the province of new york," replied father drouillard, speaking for willet. "one of the bostonnais, but a good youth."

"one of the bostonnais! then i do not know him! i thought for a moment that i saw in him the look of some one else, but maybe i was mistaken. an old man cheats himself with fancies. lad, come thou farther into the light and let me see thee more clearly."

the tone of command was strong in his voice, and robert, obeying it, stepped close to the bed. the old man raised his head a little, and looked at him long with hawk's eyes. robert felt that intent gaze cutting into him, but he did not move. then the seigneur louis henri anatole de chatillard laughed scornfully and said to father drouillard:

"why do you deceive me, father? why do you tell me that is one, robert lennox, a youth of the bostonnais, who stands before me, when my own eyes tell me that it is the chevalier raymond louis de st. luc, come[pg 291] as befits a soldier of france to say farewell to an old man before he dies."

robert felt an extraordinary thrill of emotion. m. de chatillard, seeing with the eyes of the past, had taken him for the chevalier. but why?

"it is not the chevalier de st. luc," said father drouillard, gently. "it is the lad, robert lennox, from the province of new york."

"but it is st. luc!" insisted the old man. "the face is the same, the eyes are the same! should i not know? i have known the chevalier, and his father and grandfather before him."

the priest signed to robert, and he withdrew into the shadow of the room. then father drouillard whispered into m. de chatillard's ear, one of the servants gave him medicine from a glass, and presently he sank into quiet, seeming to be conscious no longer of the presence of the strangers. willet, robert and the others withdrew softly. robert was still influenced by strong emotion. did he look like st. luc? and why? what was the tie between them? the question that had agitated him so often stirred him anew.

"very old men, when they come to their last hours, have many illusions," said willet.

"it may be so," said robert, "but it was strange that he should take me for st. luc."

willet was silent. robert saw that as usual the hunter did not wish to make any explanations, but he felt once more that the time for the solution of his problem was not far away. he could afford to wait.

"the seigneur cannot live to know whether quebec will fall," said tayoga.

"no," said willet, "and it's just as well. his time runs out. his mind at the last will be filled with the[pg 292] old days when frontenac held the town against the new englanders."

the rangers were disposed well about the house, and they also watched the landing. tandakora and his men might come in canoes, stealing along in the shadow of the high cliffs, or they might creep through the fields and forest. zeb crane, who could see in the dark like an owl and who had already proved his great qualities as a scout and ranger, watched at the river, and willet with robert and tayoga was on the land side. but they learned there was another château landing less than a quarter of a mile lower down, and tandakora, coming on the river, might use that, and yet make his immediate approach by land.

willet stood by a grape arbor with robert and the onondaga, and watched with eye and ear.

"tandakora is sure to come," said the hunter. "it's just such a night as he loves. little would he care whether he found english or french in the house; if not the english whom he expects, then the french, and dead men have nothing to say, nor dead women either. it may be, tayoga, that you will have your chance to-night to settle your score with him."

"i do not think so, great bear," replied the onondaga. "the night is so dark that i cannot see tododaho on his star, but no whisper from him reaches me. i think that when the time comes for the ojibway and me to see which shall continue to live, tododaho or the spirits in the air will give warning."

robert shivered a little. tayoga's tone was cool and matter of fact, but his comrades knew that he was in deadly earnest. at the appointed time he and tandakora would fight their quarrel out, fight it to the death.[pg 293] in the last analysis tayoga was an indian, strong in indian customs and beliefs.

"tandakora will come about an hour before midnight," said the onondaga, "because it will be very dark then and there will yet be plenty of time for his work. he will expect to find everybody asleep, save perhaps an english sentinel whom he can easily tomahawk in the darkness. he does not know that the old seigneur lies dying, and that they watch by his bed."

"in that case," said the hunter with his absolute belief in all that tayoga said, "we can settle ourselves for quite a wait."

they relapsed into silence and robert began to look at the light that shone from the bedroom of m. de chatillard, the only light in the house now visible. he was an old, old man between ninety and a hundred, and willett was right in saying that he might well pass on before the fate of quebec was decided. robert was sure that it was going to fall, and m. de chatillard at the end of a long, long life would be spared a great blow. but what a life! what events had been crowded into his three generations of living! he could remember le grand monarque, the sun king and the buildings of versailles. he was approaching middle age when blenheim was fought. he could remember mighty battles, great changes, and the opening of new worlds, and like virgil's hero, he had been a great part of them. that was a life to live, and, if quebec were going to fall, it was well that m. de chatillard with his more than ninety years should cease to live, before the sun of france set in north america. yes, willet was right.

a long time passed and tayoga, lying down with his ear to the earth, was listening. it was so dark now that hearing, not sight, must tell when tandakora came.[pg 294]

"i go into the forest," whispered the onondaga, "but i return soon."

"don't take any needless risks," said willet.

tayoga slipped into the dusk, fading from sight like a wraith, but in five minutes he came back.

"tandakora is at hand," he whispered. "he lies with his warriors in the belt of pine woods. they are watching the light in the seigneur's window, but presently they will steal upon the house."

"and find us on watch," said willet, an exultant tone appearing in his voice. "to the landing, robert, and tell zeb they're here on our side."

the lank lad returned with robert, though he left part of his men at that point to guard against surprise, and the bulk of the force, under willet, crowded behind the grape arbor awaiting the onslaught of tandakora who, they knew, would come in caution and silence.

another period that seemed to robert interminable, though it was not more than half an hour, passed, and then he saw dimly a gigantic figure, made yet greater by the dusk. he knew that it was tandakora and his hand slid to the trigger and hammer of his rifle. but he knew also that he would not fire. it was no part of their plan to give an alarm so early. the ojibway vanished and then he thought he caught the gleam of a uniform. so, a frenchman, probably an officer, was with the warriors!

"they have scouted about the house somewhat," whispered tayoga, "and they think the soldiers are inside."

"in that case," willet whispered back, "they'll break down the front door and rush in for slaughter."

"so they will. it is likely that they are looking now for a big log."

soon a long, dark shape emerged from the dark, a[pg 295] shape that looked like one of the vast primeval saurians. it was a dozen warriors carrying the trunk of a small tree, and all molded into one by the dusk. they gathered headway, as they advanced, and it was a powerful door that could withstand their blow. one of the ambushed rangers moved a little, and, in doing so, made a noise. quick as a flash the warriors dropped the log, and another farther back fired at the noise.

"give it to 'em, lads!" cried willet.

a score of rifles flashed and the warriors replied instantly, but they were caught at a disadvantage. they had come there for rapine and murder, expecting an easy victory, and while tandakora rallied them they were no match for the rangers, led by such men as willet and his lieutenants. the battle, fierce and sanguinary, though it was, lasted a bare five minutes and then the ojibway and those of his band who survived took to flight. robert caught a glimpse among the fleeing men of one whom he knew to be the spy, garay. stirred by a fierce impulse he fired at him, but missed in the dusk, and then garay vanished with the others. robert, however, did not believe that he had been recognized by the spy and he was glad of it. he preferred that garay should consider him dead, and then he would be free of danger from that source.

the firing was succeeded by a few minutes of intense silence and then the great door of the château de chatillard opened again. once more father drouillard stood on the step, holding a lamp in his hand.

"it is over, father," said willet. "we've driven off part of 'em and the others lie here."

"i heard the noise of the battle from within," said father drouillard calmly, "and for the first time in my life i prayed that the bostonnais might win."[pg 296]

"if you don't mind, father, bring the lamp, and let us see the fallen. there must be at least fifteen here."

father drouillard, holding the light high, walked out upon the lawn with steady step.

"here is a montagnais," said willet, "and this a st. regis, and this a st. francis, and this a huron, and this an ojibway from the far west! ah, and here is a frenchman, an officer, too, and he isn't quite dead! hold the lamp a little closer, will you, father?"

the priest threw the rays of the lamp upon the figure.

"jumonville!" exclaimed robert.

it was in truth françois de jumonville, shot through the body and dying, slain in a raid for the sake of robbery and murder. when he saw the faces of white men looking down at him, he raised himself feebly on one elbow and said:

"it is you again, willet, and you, too, lennox and tayoga. always across my path, but for the last time, because i'm going on a long journey, longer than any i ever undertook before."

father drouillard fell on his knees and said a prayer for the dying man. robert looked down pityingly. he realized then that he hated nobody. life was much too busy an affair for the cherishing of hate and the plotting of revenge. jumonville had done him as much injury as he could, but he was sorry for him, and had he been able to stay the ebbing of his life, he would have done so. as the good priest finished his prayer the head of françois de jumonville fell back. he was dead.

"we will take his body into the house," said father drouillard, "prepare it for the grave and give him christian burial. i cannot forget that he was an officer of france."

"and my men shall help you," said willet.[pg 297]

they carried the body of jumonville into the château and put it on a bench, while the servants, remarkably composed, used as they were to scenes of violence, began at once to array it for the grave.

"come into the seigneur's room," said father drouillard, and robert and willet followed him into the old man's chamber. m. de chatillard lay silent and rigid. he, too, had gone on the longest of all journeys.

"his soul fled," said father drouillard, "when the battle outside was at its height, but his mind then was not here. it was far back in the past, three-quarters of a century since when frontenac and phipps fought before quebec, and he was little more than a lad in the thick of the combat. i heard him say aloud: 'the bostonnais are going. quebec remains ours!' and in that happy moment his soul fled."

"a good ending," said willet gravely, "and i, one of the bostonnais, am far from grudging him that felicity. can my men help you with the burial, father? we remain here for the rest of the night at least."

"if you will," said father drouillard.

zeb crane touched robert on the arm a little later.

"tayoga has come back," he said.

"i didn't know he'd gone away," said robert surprised.

"he pursued tandakora into the dark. mebbe he thought tododaho was wrong and that the time for him to settle score with the ojibway had re'lly come. any way he wuz off after him like an arrer from the bow."

robert went outside and found tayoga standing quietly by the front door.

"did you overtake him?" he asked.

"no," replied the onondaga. "i knew that i could not, because tododaho had not whispered to me that[pg 298] the time was at hand, but, since i had seen him and he was running away, i felt bound to pursue him. the legs of tandakora are long, and he fled with incredible speed. i followed him to the landing of the next château, where he ran down the slope, leaped into a canoe, and disappeared into the mists and vapors that hang so heavily over the river. his time is not yet."

"it seems not, but at any rate we inflicted a very thorough defeat upon him to-night. his band is annihilated."

the bodies of all the fallen warriors were buried the next day, and decent burial was also given to jumonville. but that of the seigneur de chatillard was still lying in state when willet and the rangers left.

"if you wish," said the hunter to father drouillard, "i can procure you a pass through our lines, and you can return that way to the city. we don't make war on priests."

"i thank you," said father drouillard, "but i do not need it. it is easy for me to go into quebec, whenever i choose, but, for a day or two, my duty will lie here. to-morrow we bury the seigneur, and after that must put this household in order. though one of the bostonnais, you are a good man, david willet. take care of yourself, and of the lad, robert lennox."

the hunter promised and, saying farewell to the priest, they went back to wolfe's camp, east of the montmorency, across which stream de levis lay facing them. during their absence a party of skirmishers had been cut off by st. luc, and the whole british army had been disturbed by the activities of the daring chevalier. but, on the other hand, wolfe was recovering from a serious illness. the sound mind was finding for itself a sounder body, and he was full of ideas,[pg 299] all of the boldest kind, to take quebec. if one plan failed he devised another. he thought of fording the montmorency several miles above its mouth, and of attacking montcalm in his beauport camp while another force made a simultaneous attack upon him in front. he had a second scheme to cross the river, march along the edge of the st. lawrence, and then scale the rock of quebec, and a third for a general attack upon montcalm's army in its beauport intrenchments. and he had two or three more that were variations of the first three, but his generals, murray, monckton and townshend, would not agree to any one of them, and he searched his fertile mind for still another.

but a brave general, even, might well have despaired. the siege made no apparent progress. nothing could diminish the tremendous strength that nature had given to the position of quebec, and the skill of montcalm, bougainville, and st. luc met every emergency. most ominous of all, the summer was waning. the colors that betoken autumn were deepening. wolfe realized anew that the time for taking quebec was shortening fast. the deep red appearing in the leaves spoke a language that could not be denied.

robert, about this time, received an important letter from benjamin hardy. it came by way of boston, louisbourg and the st. lawrence. it told him in the polite phrase of the day how glad he had been to hear from master jacobus huysman that he was not dead, although robert read easily between the lines and saw how genuine and deep was his joy. mr. hardy saw in his escape from so many dangers the hand of providence, a direct interposition in his behalf. he said, from motives of prudence, no mention of robert's return from the grave had been made to his acquaintances in[pg 300] new york, and master jacobus huysman in albany had been cautioned to say as little about it as possible. he deemed this wise, for the present, because those who had made the attempts upon his life would know nothing of their failure and so he would have nothing to fear from them. he was glad too, since he was sure to return to some field of the war, that he had joined the expedition against quebec. the risk of battle there would be great, but it was likely that in so remote a theater of action he would be safe from his unknown enemies.

mr. hardy added that great hopes were centered on wolfe's daring siege. all the campaigns elsewhere were going well, at last. the full strength of the colonies was being exerted and england was making a mighty effort. success must come. everybody had confidence in mr. pitt, and in new york they were hopeful that the shadow, hovering so long in the north, would soon be dispelled forever.

in closing he said that when the campaign was over robert must come to him in new york at once, and that willet must come with him. his wild life in the woods must cease. ample provision for his future would be made and he must develop the talents with which he was so obviously endowed.

the water was in robert's eyes when he finished the letter. aye, he read between the lines, and he read well. the old thought that he had friends, powerful friends, came to him with renewed strength. it was obvious that the new york merchant had a deep affection for him and was watching over him. it was true of willet too, and also of mr. huysman. his mind, as ever, turned to the problem of himself, and once more he felt that the solution was not far away.[pg 301]

the next day after he had received the letter zeb crane returned from quebec, into which he had stolen as a spy, and he told robert and charteris that the people there, though suffering from privation, were now in great spirits. they were confident that montcalm, the fortifications and the natural strength of the city would hold off the invader until winter, soon to come, should drive him away forever.

august was now gone and wolfe wrote to the great pitt a letter destined to be his last official dispatch, a strange mixture of despondency and resolution. he spoke of the help for montcalm that had been thrown into quebec, of his own illness, of the decline in his army's strength through the operations already carried out, of the fact that practically the whole force of canada was now against him, but, in closing, he assured the minister that the little time left to the campaign should be used to the utmost.

while plan after plan presented itself to the mind of wolfe, to be discarded as futile, robert saw incessant activity with the rangers and fought in many skirmishes with the french, the canadians and indians. tandakora had gathered a new band and was as great a danger as ever. they came upon his ruthless trail repeatedly, but they were not able to bring him to battle again. once they revisited the château de chatillard, and found the life there going on peacefully within the english lines. father drouillard had returned to quebec.

another shade of color was added to the leaves and then robert saw a great movement in wolfe's camp before the montmorency. the whole army seemed to be leaving the position and to be going on board the fleet. at first he thought the siege was to be abandoned utterly and his heart sank. but charteris, whom[pg 302] he saw just before he went on his ship with the royal americans, reassured him.

"i think," he said, "that the die is cast at last. the general has some great plan in his head, i know not what, but i feel in every bone that we're about to attack quebec."

robert now felt that way, too. the army merely concentrated its strength on the heights of levis and orleans on the other side, then took ship again, and in the darkness of night, heavily armed and provisioned, ran by the batteries of the city, dropping anchor at cap rouge, above quebec.

throughout these movements on the water robert was in a long boat with willet, tayoga and a small body of rangers. in the darkness he watched the great st. lawrence and the lights of the town far above them. what they would do next he did not know, and he no longer asked. he believed that charteris was right, and that the issue was at hand.