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Before dark we halted in a little opening, the grass green underfoot, and a bank of trees all about, and made night camp. There was water near at hand, and the fire quickly built gave cheer to the scene, as the men prepared supper. The adventures of the day had wearied me, and I was very content to lie on Barbeau's blanket, and watch them work.
So the whole town made a feast, everybody bringing the best he had to Barbeau's house. They spread the table and crowded around, leaning over each, other's shoulders to take up bits in their hands and eat with and talk to the young people. Gabriel's mother sat beside him with her arm around him, and opposite was Celeste with her grandfather and grandmother, and all the party were ranged around.
She looks with hot eyes at Harry when he comes into his aunt's card-tables, flushed with Barbeau's good wine. He laughs, rattles in reply to his aunt, who asks him which of the girls is his sweetheart? He gaily says he loves them both like sisters. He has never seen a better gentleman, nor better people, than the Lamberts. Why is Lambert not a general?
The young girls would gather at Barbeau's or Le Compt's or Pensonneau's at any one of a dozen places, and the young men would follow. It was no trouble to have a dance every evening, and on feast days and great days there were balls, of course. The violin ran in my family. Celeste Barbeau would call across the hedge to my mother, "Manette, will Monsieur Le Compt play for us again to-night?"
"And we will move slowly, and as noiselessly as possible. No one ever knows where the enemy are to be met with in Indian campaign, and we are without arms, except for Barbeau's gun." "I retain my pistol," I interrupted. "Of small value since its immersion in the lake; as to myself I must trust to my knife.
There was no money!" says Mr. Sampson, dropping his head. "Hallo! How do you know, Mr. Chaplain?" asks the young gentleman. "I know because I am a villain, sir. I am not worthy of your kindness. I told you so. I found the book, sir, that night, when you had too much wine at Barbeau's." "And read the letters?" asked Mr. Warrington, starting up and turning very red.
Celeste Barbeau's father and mother lived at Prairie du Pont, and Alexis Barbeau was the richest man in this part of the American Bottom. When Alexis Barbeau was down on his knees at mass, people used to say he counted his money instead of his beads; it was at least as dear to him as religion. And when he came au Caho', he hadn't a word for a poor man.
The way grew steeper and steeper, and more difficult to traverse, although, as we thus rose above the tree limit, the shadows became less dense, and we were able dimly to perceive objects a yard or two in advance. I strained my eyes over Barbeau's shoulder, but could gain no glimpse of De Artigny. Then we rounded a sharp edge of rock, and met him blocking the narrow way.
The Cahokians were so used to being raided by the Puants that they would readily believe such an attack had been made. One might expect they would hear of such a wedding as Celeste Barbeau's. Indeed, the people were so tired of the Puants that they had sent urgently to St. Ange de Bellerive asking that soldiers be marched from Fort Chartres to give them military protection.
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