I could not eat, although I made the endeavor, and finally crossed to the window, opened the heavy wooden shutters, and gazed without. What a marvelous scene that was! Never before had my eyes looked upon so fair a view, and I stood silent, and fascinated. My window opened to the westward, and I gazed down from the very edge of the vast rock into the wide valley. Great tree tops were below, and I had to lean far out to see the silvery waters lapping the base of the precipice, but, a little beyond, the full width of the noble stream became visible, decked with islands, and winding here and there between green-clad banks, until it disappeared in the far distance. The sun touched all with gold; the wide meadows opposite were vivid green, while many of the trees crowning the bluffs had already taken on rich autumnal coloring. Nor was there anywhere in all that broad expanse, sign of war or death. It was a scene of peace, so silent, so beautiful, that I could not conceive this as a land of savage cruelty. Far away, well beyond rifle shot, two loaded canoes appeared, skimming the surface of the river. Beyond these, where the meadows swept down to the stream, I could perceive black heaps of ashes, and here and there spirals of smoke, the only visible symbols of destruction. A haze hid the distant hills, giving to them a purple tinge, like a frame encircling the picture. It was all so soft in coloring my mind could not grasp the fact that we were besieged by warriors of the Iroquois, and that this valley was even now being swept and harried by those wild raiders of the woods. I had neglected to bar the door, and as I stood there gazing in breathless fascination, a sudden step on the floor caused me to turn in alarm. My eyes encountered those of De Tonty, who stood hat in hand. "Tis a fair view, Madame," he said politely. "In all my travels I have seen no nobler domain." "It hath a peaceful look," I answered, still struggling with the memory. "Can it be true the savages hold the valley?" "All too true--see, yonder, where the smoke still shows, dwelt the Kaskaskias. Not a lodge is left, and the bodies of their dead strew the ground. Along those meadows three weeks since there were the happy villages of twelve tribes of peaceful Indians; today those who yet live are fleeing for their lives." "And this fort, Monsieur?" "Safe enough, I think, although no one of us can venture ten yards beyond the gate. The Rock protects us, Madame, yet we are greatly outnumbered, and with no ammunition to waste. 'Twas the surprise of the raid which left us thus helpless. Could we have been given time to gather our friendly Indians together the story would be different." "They are not cowards then?"