When Wilderness was King: A Tale of the Illinois CountryParrish, Randall
General
When Wilderness was King: A Tale of the Illinois Country
Parrish, Randall
Illinois -- Fiction
The council lodge! I glanced about me apprehensively; surely this must
be the same tepee in which Captain Heald and I had met the chiefs!
There were no signs of ordinary Indian occupancy, and now as I looked
about me the firelight from without revealed clearly the shading of
those grotesque figures I recalled as having been sketched upon the
outer covering. So it was here that De Croix was to be confined! I
crept back hastily, dropping into place the loosened flap through which
I had been peering. A skin or two were lying on the grassy floor; and
I grasped the larger of these, drawing it over me while I rolled as
closely as possible against the farther wall, hoping desperately that
no Indian guards would be posted within.
The uproar outside continued, as if there were still opposition to
the commands of the chiefs; but presently, as I peeped through a hole
in the skin held over me, I perceived a sudden flash of light as the
flap covering the entrance was drawn aside. I saw a number of dark
hands thrust within, a savage face or two peering for a moment about
the darkened interior; but to my inexpressible relief only one body
was thrust inside, with such violence, however, as to cause the man to
fall face downward at full length. The next instant the lodge was again
wrapped in utter darkness. By God's mercy I remained undiscovered, and
was alone with De Croix.
For a short time, assured as I was of this fact, I did not venture to
creep from my place of concealment, or make my presence known to my
companion. What ears might be listening, I knew not; nor dared I trust
too much to the Frenchman's already overtaxed nerves. He did not move
from the position where he fell; but I could hear him groan and sob,
with now and then a broken ejaculation. Without, the yelling and uproar
grew perceptibly less, although an occasional outburst gave evidence
that the carousal was not wholly ended. Finally I pushed back the robe
that covered me, now grown uncomfortably warm, and crept cautiously
toward the place where I knew him to be lying. It was intensely dark,
and I was still fearful lest he might cry out if I startled him.
"De Croix," I whispered, "make no alarm; I am Wayland."
"Wayland!" I could mark the amazement in his tone, as he instantly sat
upright, peering through the gloom in the direction whence my voice
came. _"Mon Dieu!_ You are here? You saw all of it?"
"Ay," I answered, reaching out and groping in the darkness until I
grasped his hand. "You have had a hard time, my lad; but the worst is
over, and hope remains for us both."
He shuddered so violently I could feel the spasm shake his body.
"'Twas not the dying," he protested; "but did you see her, Wayland?
Merciful God! was it really a living woman who stood there, or a ghost
returned from the other world to haunt me and make living worse than
death?"
"You mean the sister who interposed to save you?" I asked. "' She was
as truly alive as either of us. Think you she is not a stranger?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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