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Updated: June 13, 2025
Then he motioned toward the wall ladder that reached up into the darkness of the loft. Teganouan turned, picked up the hatchet and thrust it into his belt, took one quick glance about the room to make sure that no telltale article remained, and slipped up the ladder. There was a loud knock on the door, and Menard opened it. The Lieutenant came in. "We have no word yet, Captain," he said.
Then they talked on, Danton asking boyish questions, and Father Claude starting over and again on a narrative of the wonderful conversion of the Huron drunkard, Heroukiki, who, in his zeal, and here Menard always swept in with a new story, which left the priest adrift in the eddies of the conversation.
"There's a war party of twenty on my trail," said Menard. "If I had my own men with me I should feel safe, but I have my doubts about these fellows. I haven't room for more than two." "What's the trouble? that La Grange affair?" Menard nodded. "I heard that they had a price on your head. There's been a good deal of talk about it at Frontenac.
They were walking by the door, and Menard, as he spoke, sat on the stone which he had rolled there in the afternoon. The priest stood before him. "I hope we may succeed, my son. I have seen this anger before, and it has always ended in the one way." "Of course," the Captain replied, "it does depend on the Big Throat. He must reach here in time." "God grant that he may!"
Do you think it will be safe?" "It's a hard trip, you know; but it's safe enough." "I shan't forget your kindness, Menard. The girl is a spirited little thing, and she takes it hard. Madame has set her heart on getting her to La Grange. I don't know all the details myself." "I think we can arrange it, Major. We start in an hour." "She will be there. You are a splendid fellow, Menard. Good-bye."
Menard slowly rose and looked into the Indian's eyes. "I have no weapons, Tegakwita. The chiefs who have set me free have not yet returned the musket which was taken from me. It is dangerous to go at night through the forest without a weapon. Give me your hatchet and I will go with you." Tegakwita's lip curled almost imperceptibly. "The White Chief is afraid of the night?"
The older feller sat down and began to talk. "I left this country in '65," he said, "for California, and now I'm back to Menard County, Illinois, to die and be buried with my people over at Rock Creek. And I'm goin' about seein' the old places onct again.
But Menard had lived hard and rapidly during his first years in the province, and he was a stern-faced young soldier when he stood on the wharf, hat in hand and sword to chin, watching New France's greatest governor sitting erect in the boat that bore him away from his own.
The great oak was in a dense, deep-shadowed place, at the edge of the circle. A little to one side, close to the crowding thicket, was a small, new mound. Looking now at Tegakwita, Menard could see that his front was stained with the soil. Probably he had spent the day working on the mound for his sister.
"Father," exclaimed the boy with passion, "I was never in Kaskaskia before. And Colonel Menard lent me a pony to ride after my young master. I have no pleasure but watching the lights of the town at night." The great fellow began to sob. "If my grandfather would but come here, I could keep him well. I have been watching how they do things in Kaskaskia. But no, he will stay on the hills.
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