The Hidden Children

"Lanette," said he, disconcerted but laughing, "do you mean in hell or at the Iroquois stake?"

Whereupon Lana flushed and said somewhat violently that he should not make a jest of either hell or stake; and that she for one marvelled at his ill-timed pleasantries and unbecoming jests.

So here was a pretty quarrel already sur le tapis; but neither I nor Lois interposed, and Lana, pink and angry, seated herself on the moss and gazed steadily at our watchful Indians. But in her fixed gaze I saw the faint glimmer of tears.

After a moment Boyd got up, went down to her, and asked her pardon. She made no answer; they remained looking at each other for another second, then both smiled, and Boyd lay down at her feet, resting his elbow on the moss and his cheek on his hand, so that he could converse with me across her shoulder.

And first he cautioned both Lana and Lois to keep secret whatever was to be said between us two, then, nodding gaily at me:

"You were quite right, Loskiel, in speaking to the General about the proper trap for this Wizard-Sachem Amochol, who is inflaming the entire Seneca nation to such a fury."

"I know no other way to take and destroy him," said I.

"There is no other way. It must be done secretly, and by a small party manoeuvring ahead and independently of our main force."

"Are you to command?" I asked.

"I am to have that honour," he said eagerly, "and I take you, your savages, and twenty riflemen–"

"What is this?" said Lana sharply; but he lifted an impatient hand and went on in his quick, interested manner, to detail to me the plan he had conceived for striking Amochol at Catharines-town, in the very midst of the Onon-hou-aroria.

"Last night," he said, "I sent out Hanierri and Iaowania, the headquarters scouts; and I'm sorry I did, for they came in this morning with their tails between their legs, saying the forest swarmed with the Seneca scouts, and it was death to stir.

"And I was that disgusted—what with their cowardice and the aftermath of that headquarters punch—that I bade them go paint and sing their death-songs–"

"Oh, Lord! You should not lose your temper with an Indian!" I said, vexed at his indiscretion.

"I know it. I'll not interfere with your tame wolves, Loskiel. But Hanierri madded me; and now he's told Dominie Kirkland's praying Indians, and not one o' them will stir from Tioga—the chicken-hearted knaves! What do you think of that, Loskiel?"

"I am sorry. But we really need no other Indians than my Sagamore, the two Oneidas, and the Stockbridge, Yellow Moth, to do Amochol's business for him, if you and your twenty riflemen are going."

"I think as you do; and so I told the General, who wanted Major Parr to command and the entire battalion to march. 'Oh, Lord!' says I. 'Best bring Colonel Proctor's artillery band, also!' And was frightened afterward at what I said, with so little reflection and respect; but the General, who had turned red as a pippin, burst out laughing and says he: 'You are a damnably disrespectful young man, sir, but you and your friend Loskiel may suit yourselves concerning the taking of this same Amochol. Only have a care to take or destroy him, for if you do not, by God, you shall be detailed to the batteaux and cool your heels in Fort Sullivan until we return!'"

We both laughed heartily, and Boyd added:

"He said it to fright me for my impudence. Trust that man to know a man when he sees one!"

"Meaning yourself?" said I, convulsed.

"And you, too, Loskiel," he said so naively that Lois, too, laughed, exclaiming:

"What modest opinions of themselves have these two boys! Do you hear them, Lana, dubbing each other men?"

"I hear," said Lana listlessly.

Boyd plucked a long, feathery stalk, and with its tip caressed Lana's cheeks.

"Spiders!" said he. "Spinning a goblin veil for you!"

"I wish the veil of Fate were as transparent," said she.

"Would you see behind it if you could?"

She said under her breath:

"I sometimes dream I see behind it now."

"What do you see?" he asked.

She shook her head; but we all begged her to disclose her dreams, saying laughingly that as dreams were the most important things in the lives of all Indians, our close association with them had rendered us credulous.

"Come, Lanette," urged Boyd, "tell us what it is you see in dreams behind the veil."

She hesitated, shuddered:

"Flames—always flames. And a man in black with leaden buttons, whose face is always hidden in his cloak. But, oh! I know—I seem to know that he has no face at all, but is like a skull under his black cloak."

"A merry dream," said Boyd, laughing.

"Is there more to it?" asked Lois seriously.

"Yes.... Lieutenant Boyd is there, and he makes a sign—like this–"

"What!" exclaimed Boyd, sitting up, astounded. "Where did you learn that sign?"

"In my dream. What does it mean?"

"Make it no more, Lana," he said, in a curiously disturbed voice. "For wherever you have learned it—if truly from a dream, or from some careless fellow—of my own–" He hesitated, glanced at me. "You are not a Mason, Loskiel. And Lana has just given the Masonic signal of distress—having seen me give it in a dream. It is odd." He sat very silent for a moment, then lay down again at Lana's feet; and for a little while they conversed in whispers, as though forgetting that we were there at all, his handsome head resting against her knees, and her hand touching the hair on his forehead lightly at intervals.

After a few moments I rose and, with Lois, walked forward toward our picket line, from where we could see very plainly the great cattle herd among the trees along the river.

She said in a low and troubled voice:

"It has come so far, then, that Lana makes no longer a disguise of her sentiments before you and me. It seems as though they had bewitched each other—and find scant happiness in the mutual infatuation."

I said nothing.

"Is he not free to marry her?" asked Lois.

"Why, yes—I suppose he is—if she will have him," I said, startled by the direct question. "Why not?"

"I don't know. Once, at Otsego Camp I overheard bitter words between them—not from him, for he only laughed at what she said. It was in the dusk, close to our tent; and either they were careless or thought I slept.... And I heard her say that he was neither free nor fit to speak of marriage. And he laughed and vowed that he was as free and fit as was any man. 'No,' says she, 'there are other men like Euan Loskiel in the world.' 'Exceptions prove the case,' says he, laughing; and there was a great sob in her voice as she answered that such men as he were born to damn women. And he retorted coolly that it was such women as she who ever furnished the provocation, but that only women could lose their own souls, and that it was the same with men; but neither of 'em could or ever had contributed one iota toward the destruction of any soul except their own.... Then Lana came into our tent and stood looking down at me where I lay; and dimly through my lashes I could perceive the shadow of Boyd behind her on the tent wall, wavering, gigantic, towering to the ridge-pole as he set the camp-torch in its socket on the flooring." She passed her slim hand across her eyes. "It was like an unreal scene—a fevered vision of two phantoms in the smoky, lurid lustre of the torch. Boyd stood there dark against the light, edged with flickering flame as with a mantle, figure and visage scintilant with Lucifer's own beauty—and Lana, her proud head drooping, and her sad, young eyes fixed on me—Oh, Euan!" She stood pressing down both eyelids with her fingers, motionless; then, with a quick-drawn breath and a brusque gesture, flung her arms wide and let them drop to her sides. "How can men follow what they call their 'fortune,' headlong, unheeding, ranging through the world as a hot-jowled hound ranges for rabbits? Are they never satiated? Are they never done with the ruthless madness? Does the endless chase with its intervals of killing never pall?"

"Hounds are hounds," I said slowly. "And the hound will chase his thousandth hare with all the unslaked eagerness that thrilled him when his first quarry fled before him."

"Why?"

But I shook my head in silence.

"Are you that way?"

"I have not been."

"The instinct then is not within you?"

"Yes, the instinct is.... But some hounds are trained to range only as far as their mistress, Old Dame Reason, permits. Others slip leash and take to the runways to range uncontrolled and mastered only by a dark and second self, urging them ever forward.... There are but two kinds of men, Lois—the self-disciplined, and the unbroken. But the raw nature of the two differed nothing at their birth."

She stood looking down at the distant cattle along the river for a while without speaking; then her hand, which hung beside her, sought mine and softly rested within my clasp.

"It is wonderful," she murmured, "that it has been God's pleasure I should come to you unblemished—after all that I have lived to learn and see. But more wonderful and blessed still it is to me to find you what you are amid this restless, lawless, ruthless world of soldiery—upright and pure in heart.... It seems almost, with us, as though our mothers had truly made of us two Hidden Children, white and mysterious within the enchanted husks, which only our own hands may strip from us, and reveal ourselves unsullied as God made us, each to the other—on our wedding morn."

I lifted her little hand and laid my lips to it, touching the ring. Then she bent timidly and kissed the rough gold circlet where my lips had rested. Somehow, a shaft of sunlight had penetrated the green roof above, and slanted across her hair, so that the lovely contour of her head was delicately edged with light.

4"Nene-nea-wen-ne, Lois!" I whispered passionately.

5"Nen-ya-wen-ne, O Loskiel! Teni-non-wes."

We stood yet a while together there, and I saw her lift her eyes and gaze straight ahead of us beyond our picket line, and remain so, gazing as though her regard could penetrate those dim and silent forest aisles to the red altar far beyond in unseen Catharines-town.

"When must you go?" she asked under her breath.

"The army is making ready today."

"To march into the Indian country?"

I nodded.

"When does it march?"

"On Friday. But that is not to be known at present."

"I understand. By what route do you go?"

"By Chemung."

"And then?"

"At Chemung we leave the army, Boyd and I. You heard."

"Yes, Euan."

I said, forcing myself to speak lightly:

"You are not to be afraid for us, Little Rosy Pigeon of the Forest. Follow me with your swift-winged thoughts and no harm shall come to me."

"Must you go?"

I laughed: 6"Ka-teri-oseres, Lois."

7"Wa-ka-ton-te-tsihon," she said calmly. "Wa-ka-ta-tiats-kon."

Then I gave way to my increasing surprise:

"Wonder-child!" I exclaimed. "When and where have you learned to understand and answer me in the tongue of the Long House?"

8"Kio-ten-se," she said with a faint smile.

"For whom?"

"For my mother, Euan. Did you suppose I could neglect anything that might be useful in my life's quest? Who knows when I might need the tongue I am slowly learning to speak?… Oh, and I know so little, yet. Something of Algonquin the Mohican taught me; and with it a little of the Huron tongue. And now for nearly a month every day I have learned a little from the Oneidas at Otsego—from the Oneida girl whose bridal dress you bought to give to me. Do you remember her? The maid called Drooping Wings?"

"Yes—but—I do not understand. To what end is all this? When and where is your knowledge of the Iroquois tongue likely to aid you?"

She gave me a curious, veiled look—then turned her face away.

"You do not dream of following our army, do you?" I demanded. "Not one woman would be permitted to go. It is utterly useless for you to expect it, folly to dream of such a thing.... You and Lana are to go to Easton as soon as the heavier artillery is sent down the river, which will be the day we start—Friday. This frontier gypsying is ended—all this coquetting with danger is over now. The fort here is no place for you and Lana. Your visit, brief as it has been, is rash and unwarranted. And I tell you very plainly, Lois, that I shall never rest until you are at Easton, which is a stone town and within the borders of civilization. The artillery will be sent down by boat, and all the women and children are to go also. Neither Boyd nor I have told this to you and Lana, but–" I glanced over my shoulder. "I think he is telling her now."

Lois slowly turned and looked toward them. Evidently they no longer cared what others saw or thought, for Lana's cheek lay pressed against his shoulder, and his arm encircled her body.

We walked back, all together, to the fort, and left Lois and Lana at the postern; then Boyd and I continued on to my bush-hut, the Indians following.

Muffled drums of a regiment were passing, and an escort with reversed arms, to bury poor Kimball, Captain in Colonel Cilly's command, shot this morning through the heart by the accidental discharge of a musket in the careless hands of one of his own men.

We stood at salute while the slow cortege passed.

Said Boyd thoughtfully:

"Well, Kimball's done with all earthly worries. There are those who might envy him."

"You are not one," I said bluntly.

"I? No. I have not yet played hard enough in the jolly blind man's buff—which others call the game of life. I wear the bandage still, and still my hands clutch at the empty air, and in my ears the world's sweet laughter rings–" He smiled, then shrugged. "The charm of Fortune's bag is not what you pull from it, but what remains within."

"Boyd," I said abruptly. "Who is that handsome wench that followed us from Otsego?"

"Dolly Glenn?"

"That is her name."

"Lord, how she pesters me!" he said fretfully. "I chanced upon her at the Middle Fort one evening—down by the river. And what are our wenches coming to," he exclaimed impatiently, "that a kiss on a summer's night should mean to them more than a kiss on a night in summer!"

"She is a laundress, is she not?"

"How do I know? A tailoress, too, I believe, for she has patched and mended for me; and she madded me because she would take no pay. There are times," he added, "when sentiment is inconvenient–"

"Poor thing," I said.

"My God, why? When I slipped my arm around her she put up her face to be kissed. It was give and take, and no harm done—and the moon a-laughing at us both. And why the devil she should look at me reproachfully is more than I can comprehend."

"It seems a cruel business," said I.

"Cruel!"

"Aye—to awake a heart and pass your way a-whistling."

"Now, Loskiel," he began, plainly vexed, "I am not cruel by nature, and you know it well enough. Men kiss and go their way–"

"But women linger still."

"Not those I've known."

"Yet, here is one–"

"A silly fancy that will pass with her. Lord! Do you think a gentleman accountable to every pretty chit of a girl he notices on his way through life?"

"Some dare believe so."

He stared at me, then laughed.

"You are different to other men, of course," he said gaily. "We all understand that. So let it go–"

"One moment, Boyd. There is a matter I must speak of—because friendship and loyalty to a childhood friend both warrant it. Can you tell me why Lana Helmer is unhappy?"

A dark red flush surged up to the roots of his hair, and the muscles in his jaw tightened. He remained a moment mute and motionless, staring at me. But if my question, for the first moment, had enraged him, that quickly died out; and into his eyes there came a haggard look such as I had never seen there.

He said slowly:

"Were you not the man you are, Loskiel, I had answered in a manner you might scarcely relish. Now, I answer you that if Lana is unhappy I am more so. And that our unhappiness is totally unnecessary—if she would but listen to what I say to her."

"And what is it that you say to her?" I inquired as coolly as though his answer might not very easily be a slap with his fringed sleeve across my face.

"I have asked her to marry me," he said. "Do you understand why I tell you this?"

I shook my head.

"To avoid killing you at twenty paces across the river.... I had rather tell you than do that."

"So that you have told me," said I, "the reason for your telling matters nothing. And my business with you ends with your answer.... Only—she is my friend, Boyd—a playmate of pleasant days. And if you can efface that wretchedness from her face—brighten the quenched sparkle of her eyes, paint her cheeks with rose again—do it, in God's name, and make of me a friend for life."

"Shall I tell you what has gone amiss—from the very first there at Otsego?"

"No—that concerns not me–"

"Yes, I shall tell you! It's that she knew about—the wench here—Dolly Glenn."

"Is that why she refuses you and elects to remain unhappy?" I said incredulously.

"Yes—I can say no more.... You are right, Loskiel, and such men as I are wrong—utterly and wretchedly wrong. Sooner or later comes the bolt of lightning. Hell! To think that wench should hurl it!"

"But what bolt had she to hurl?" said I, astonished.

He reddened, bit his lip savagely, made as though to speak, then, with a violent gesture, turned away.

A few moments later a cannon shot sounded. It was the signal for striking tents and packing up; and in every regiment hurry and confusion reigned and the whole camp swarmed with busy soldiery.

But toward evening orders came to unpack and pitch tents again; and whether it had been an exercise to test the quickness of our army for marching, or whether some accident postponed the advance, I do not know.

All that evening, being on duty with my Indians to watch the cattle-guard, I did not see Lois.

The next day I was ordered to take the Indians a mile or two toward Chemung and lie there till relieved; so we went very early and remained near the creek on observation, seeing nothing, until evening, when the relief came with Hanierri and three Stockbridges. These gave us an account that another soldier had been shot in camp by the accidental discharge of a musket, and that the Light Troops had marched out of their old encampment and had pitched tents one hundred rods in advance.

Also, they informed us that the flying hospital and stores had been removed to the fort, and that Colonel Shreve had taken over the command of that place.

By reason of the darkness, we were late in getting into camp, so again that day I saw nothing of Lois.

On Wednesday it rained heavily about eleven o'clock, and the troops made no movement. Some Oneidas came in and went to headquarters. My Indians did not seem to know them.

I was on duty all day at headquarters, translating into Iroquois for the General a speech which he meant to deliver to the Tuscaroras on his return through Easton. The rain ceased late in the afternoon. Later, an express came through from Fort Pitt; and before evening orders had gone out that the entire army was to march at eight o'clock in the morning.

Morning came with a booming of cannon. We did not stir.

Toward eleven, however, the army began to march out as though departing in earnest; but as Major Parr remained with the Rifles, I knew something had gone amiss.

Yet, the other regiments, including my own, marched away gaily enough, with music sounding and colours displayed; and the garrison, boatmen, artillerymen, and all the civil servants and women and children waved them adieu from the parapets of the fort.

But high water at Tioga ford, a mile or two above, soon checked them, and there they remained that night. As I was again on duty with Hanierri and the Dominie, I saw not Lois that day.

Friday was fair and sunny, and the ground dried out. And all the morning I was with Dominie Kirkland and Hanierri, translating, transcribing, and writing out the various speeches and addresses left for me by General Sullivan.

Runners came in toward noon with news that our main forces had encamped at the pass before Chemung, and were there awaiting us.

Murphy, the rifleman, came saying that our detail was packing up at the fort, that Major Parr had sent word for Lieutenant Boyd to strike tents and pull foot, and that the boats were now making ready to drop down the river with the non-combatants.

My pack, and those of my Indians, had been prepared for days, and there was little for me to do to make ready. Some batt-men carried my military chest to the fort, where it was bestowed with the officers' baggage until we returned.

Then I hastened away to the fort and discovered our twenty riflemen paraded there, and Boyd inspecting them and their packs. His face seemed very haggard under its dark coat of sunburn, but he returned my salute with a smile, and presently came over to where I stood, saying coolly enough:

"I have made my adieux to the ladies. They are at the landing place expecting you. Best not linger. We should reach Chemung by dusk."

"My Indians are ready," said I.

"Very well," he said absently, and returned to his men, continuing his careful inspection.

As I passed the log bridge, I saw Dolly Glenn standing there with a frightened look on her face, but she paid no heed to me, and I went on still haunted by the girl's expression.

A throng of people—civilians and soldiers—were at the landing. The redoubtable Mrs. Sabin was bustling about a batteau, terrorizing its crew and bullying the servants, who were stowing away her property. Looking about me, I finally discovered Lois and Lana standing on the shore a little way down stream, and hastened to them.

Lana was as white as a ghost, but to my surprise Lois seemed cheerful and in gayest spirits, and laughed when I saluted her hand. And it relieved me greatly to find her so animated and full of confidence that all would be well with us, and the parting but a brief one.

"I know in my heart it will be brief," she said smilingly, and permitting both her hands to remain in mine. "Soon, very soon, we shall be again together, Euan, and this interrupted fairy tale, so prettily begun by you and me, shall be once more resumed."

"To no fairy finish," I said, "but in sober reality."

She looked at Lana, laughing:

"What a lad is this, dear! How can a fairy tale be ever real? Yet, he is a magician like Okwencha, this tall young Ensign of mine, and I make no doubt that his wizardry can change fancy to fact in the twinkling of an eye. Indeed, I think I, too, am something of a witch. Shall I make magic for you, Euan? What most of anything on earth would you care to see tonight?"

"You, Lois."

"Hai-e! That is easy. I will some night send to you my spirit, and it shall be so like me and so vivid nay, so warm and breathing—that you shall think to even touch it.... Shall I do this with a spell?"

"I only have to close my eyes and see you. Make it that I can also touch you."

"It shall be done."

We both were smiling, and I for one was forcing my gay spirits, for now that the moment had arrived, I knew that chance might well make of our gay adieux an endless separation.

Lana had wandered a little way apart; I glanced at Lois, then turned and joined her. She laid her hand on my arm, as though her knees could scarcely prop her, and turned to me a deathly face.

"Euan," she breathed, "I have said adieu to him. Somehow, I know that he and I shall never meet again.... Tell him I pray for him—for his soul.... And mine.... And that before he goes he shall do the thing I bid him do.... And if he will not—tell him I ask God's mercy on him.... Tell him that, Euan."

"Yes," I said, awed.

She stood resting her arm on mine to support her, closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them and looked at me. And in her eyes I saw her heart was breaking as she stood there.

"Lana! Lanette! Little comrade! What is this dreadful thing that crushes you? Could you not tell me?" I whispered.

"Ask him, Euan."

"Lana, why will you not marry him, if you love him so?"

She shuddered and closed her eyes.

Neither of us spoke again. Lois, watching us, came slowly toward us, and linked her arm in Lana's.

"Our batteau is waiting," she said quietly.

I continued to preserve my spirits as we walked together down to the shore where Mrs. Sabin stood glaring at me, then turned her broad back and waddled across the planks.