United States -- History -- French and Indian War, 1754-1763 -- Fiction
Five men with good sinews, some understanding, and well-sharpened axe
blades, can make a great change in the forest in one day. When the
sunset found us I had a fortified house built for my wife. It was
framed of fragrant pine, and occupied the extremity of a spit of land
that lay next the meadow. Its door opened on the water, and I made the
opening wide so that the stars might look in at night. All about the
sides and rear of the house were laid boughs, one upon another, and on
the top of this barricade was stretched a long cord threaded with
hawk's bells. The lodges for myself and the men we placed in the rear,
and behind them we laid still another wall of brush to separate us from
the forest. I was satisfied with the defenses. With the reeds in
front and the brush behind, any intruder would sound his own alarm.
The woman took Singing Arrow and went to her house early that night,
but I sat late over my charts and journal. I had much to study and
more to plan.
Yet I was abroad the next morning while the stars were still reflected
in the bay. Labarthe was with me, and we took Singing Arrow's light
canoe and packed it with supplies and merchandise. Then we breakfasted
on meal and jerked meat and were ready to start.
But the rest of the men were not yet astir, and the woman's house was
silent. I walked to it and stood irresolute. I disliked to wake her.
Yet I could not leave her without some message. But while I pondered I
heard her step behind me. She came up from the water, and she looked
all vigor and morning gladness.
"Why the canoe so early?" she called. "Do we have fish for breakfast?"
I took her hand. "Come with me to the water." I led her to the canoe
and pointed out the bales of supplies. "You see we are ready for work.
We shall be back in a few days."
She dropped my hand. "Then why did you build that house?"
"Why not, madame?"
"But you say that we are to go this morning."
"I must go, madame."
"And you intend to leave me here?"
"Why, yes, madame."
"But you said 'we.'"
I looked some amazement. "I take Labarthe with me. I leave three men
with you on guard. There is nothing to fear."
And then she threw back her head. "I do not think that I am afraid,"
she said more quietly. "But--I was not prepared for this. It had not
occurred to me that you would go away."
I stopped a moment. "I do not go for pleasure. Indeed, I cannot
imagine a fairer spot in which to linger and forget the world. But did
you think that I would sit in idleness, madame?"
She looked down. "I do not know that I thought at all about it. It
has gone on like a play, a dream. Perhaps I thought it would continue.
Your plan is to travel from tribe to tribe, and come back here at
intervals?"
"That is my plan. I shall buy furs and cache them here. I shall try
not to be away more than a week at a time. I regret that I surprised
you. I did not think but that you understood."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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