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Updated: June 12, 2025
It is true old Madame Barbeau had never been even au Kaw; but one may live and grow wise without crossing the rigolés north and south, or the bluffs and river east and west. "Gra'mère, Manette is sleepy," Celeste would say, when my mother was with her. "Well, I will go to my bed," the grandmother would promise. But still she sat and joined in the chatter.
I reached out, and touched Barbeau; I heard the sudden roar of De Artigny's voice, the sharp report of the soldier's rifle. The flame cut the dark as though it was the blade of a knife, and, in the swift red glare, I saw a savage fling up his arms and fall headlong. Then all was chaos, confusion, death.
Though the most fashionable ordinary in the village, the White Horse did not happen to be crowded on this day. Monsieur Barbeau, the landlord, informed Harry that there was a great entertainment at Summer Hill, which had taken away most of the company; indeed, when Harry entered the room, there were but four other gentlemen in it.
"Oh, Sampson, Sampson!" broke out the young man. "I tell you I am miserable. I tell you I have been longing for some one to confide in, or ask advice of. You do know, then, that there has been something going on something between me and help Mr. Sampson, Monsieur Barbeau and and some one else?" "I have watched it this month past," says the chaplain.
Madame you will follow me, but merely close enough to make sure of your course through the woods, while Barbeau will guard the rear. Are both ready?" "Perhaps it might be well to explain more clearly what you propose," said the soldier. "Then if we become separated we could figure out the proper direction to follow." "Not a bad thought that.
I asked, "the man who led?" "Boisrondet, Francois de Boisrondet." "An officer of La Salle's? You then are of his company?" "I am," a bit proudly, "but most of the lads yonder belong with De Baugis. Now we fight a common foe, and forget our own quarrel. Did you say Rene de Artigny was in the fighting yonder?" "Yes; he and a soldier named Barbeau." The fellow stood silent, shifting his feet.
Barbeau had passed this way before, and recalled many a land-mark, occasionally turning, and pointing out to us certain peculiarities he had observed on his journey north. Once he held us motionless while he crept aside, through an intervening fringe of trees to the shore of a small lake, coming back with two fine ducks dangling from his shoulder.
"At least as far as my good health goes; but 'tis like to make a hard journey for you, Madame." "Is it far yet until we attain the fort?" "A matter of twenty-five leagues; of no moment had we a boat in which to float down stream, but the trail, as I remember, is rough." "Perchance there may be a boat," interrupted Barbeau.
"Could it not be possible," I asked, "that the feather was spoil of war dropped by some Miami in flight?" He shook his head. "Possible perhaps, but not probable; some white man may have passed this way with trophy, but no Illinois Indian would dare such venture. I have seen them before in Iroquois foray. I like not the sign, Barbeau, yet there is naught for us to do now, but go on.
Barbeau grasped it, and read the writing, handing it back to me. It was a scrawl of a few words, yet told the whole story. "Francois Cassion, under commission of Governor la Barre, arrived with party of soldiers and Indians. At his orders we accompany the force to Fort St. Louis. "De la Durantaye." "Perhaps it is as well," commented De Artigny lightly.
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