_ BOOK II. AMERICA
CHAPTER VII. THE BRINK OF CHANGE
The breath of autumn came into the air. The little flowers which had dotted the grassy robe of the rolling hills had long since faded away under the ardent sun, and now there appeared only the denuded stalks of the mulleins and the flaunting banners of the goldenrod. The wild grouse shrank from the edges of the little fields and joined their numbers into general bands, which night and morn crossed the country on sustained and strong-winged flight. The plumage of the young wild turkeys, stalking in droves among the open groves, began to emulate the iridescent splendors of their elders. The marshes above the village became the home of yet more numerous thousands of clamoring wild fowl, and high up against the blue there passed, on the south-bound journey, the harrow of the wild geese, wending their way from North to South across an unknown empire.
A chill came into the waters of the river, so that the bass and pike sought out the deeper pools. The squirrels busily hoarded up supplies of the nuts now ripening. The antlers of the deer and the elk which emerged from the concealing thickets now showed no longer ragged strips of velvet, and their tips were polished in the preliminary fitting for the fall season of love and combat. There came nights when the white frost hung heavy upon all the bending grasses and the broad-leafed plants, a frost which seared the maize leaves and set aflame the foliage of the maples all along the streams, and decked in a hundred flamboyant tones the leaves of the sumach and all the climbing vines.
As all things now presaged the coming winter, so there approached also the time when the little party, so long companions upon the Western trails, must for the first time know division. Du Mesne, making ready for the return trip over the unknown waterways back to the Lakes, as had been determined to be necessary, spoke of it as though the journey were but an affair of every day.
"Make no doubt, Monsieur L'as," said he, "that I shall ascend this river of the Illini and reach Michiganon well before the snows. Once at the mission of the Miamis, or the village at the river Chicaqua, I shall be quite safe for the winter, if I decide not to go farther on. Then, in the spring, I make no doubt, I shall be able to trade our furs at the Straits, if I like not the long run down to the Mountain. Thus, you see, I may be with you again sometime within the following spring."
"I hope it may be so, my friend," replied Law, "for I shall miss you sadly enough."
"'Tis nothing, Monsieur; you will be well occupied. Suppose I take with me Kataikini and Kabayan, perhaps also Tete Gris. That will give us four paddlers for the big canoe, and you will still have left Pierre Noir and Jean, to say nothing of our friends the Illini hereabout, who will be glad enough to make cause with you in case of need. I will leave Wabana for madame, and trust she may prove of service. See to it, pray you, that she observes the offices of the church; for methinks, unless watched, Wabana is disposed to become careless and un-Christianized."
"This I will look to," said Law, smiling.
"Then all is well," resumed Du Mesne, "and my absence will be but a little thing, as we measure it on the trails. You may find a winter alone in the wilderness a bit dull for you, mayhap duller than were it in London, or even in Quebec. Yet 'twill pass, and in time we shall meet again. Perhaps some good father will be wishing to come back with me to set up a mission among the Illini. These good fathers, they so delight in losing fingers, and ears, and noses for the good of the Church--though where the Church be glorified therein I sometimes can not say. Perhaps some leech--mayhap some artisan--"
"Nay, 'tis too far a spot, Du Mesne, to tempt others than ourselves."
"Upon the contrary rather, Monsieur L'as. It is matter for laughter to see the efforts of Louis and his ministers to keep New France chained to the St. Lawrence! Yet my good lord governor might as well puff out his cheeks against the north wind as to try to keep New France from pouring west into the Messasebe; and as much might be said for those good rulers of the English colonies, who are seeking ever to keep their people east of the Alleghanies."
"'Tis the Old World over again, there in the St. Lawrence," said Law.
"Right you are, Monsieur L'as," exclaimed Du Mesne. "New France is but an extension of the family of Louis. The intendant reports everything to the king. Monsieur So-and-so is married. Very well, the king must know it! Monsieur's eldest daughter is making sheep's eyes at such and such a soldier of the regiment of the king. Very well, this is weighty matter, of which the king must be advised! Monsieur's wife becomes expectant of a son and heir. 'Tis meet that Louis the Great should be advised of this! Mother of God! 'Tis a pretty mess enough back there on the St. Lawrence, where not a hen may cackle over its new-laid egg but the king must know it, and where not a family has meat enough for its children to eat nor clothes enough to cover them. My faith, in that poor medley of little lords and lazy vassals, how can you wonder that the best of us have risen and taken to the woods! Yet 'tis we who catch their beaver for them; and if God and the king be willing, sometime we shall get a certain price for our beaver--provided God and the king furnish currency to pay us; and that the governor, the priest and the intendant ratify the acts of God and the king!"
Law smiled at the sturdy vehemence of the other's speech, yet there was something of soberness in his own reply.
"Sir," said he, "you see here my little crooked rows of maize. Look you, the beaver will pass away, but the roots of the corn will never be torn out. Here is your wealth, Du Mesne."
The sturdy captain scratched his head. "I only know, for my part," said he, "that I do not care for the settlements. Not that I would not be glad to see the king extend his arm farther to the West, for these sullen English are crowding us more and more along our borders. Surely the land belongs to him who finds it."
"Perhaps better to him who can both find and hold it. But this soil will one day raise up a people of its own."
"Yet as to that," rejoined Du Mesne, as the two turned and walked back to the stockade, "we are not here to handle the affairs of either Louis or William. Let us e'en leave that to monsieur the intendant, and monsieur the governor, and our friends, the gray owls and the black crows, the Recollets and the Jesuits. I mind to call this spot home with you, if you like. I shall be back as soon as may be with the things we need, and we shall plant here no starving colony, but one good enough for the home of any man. Monsieur, I wish you very well, and I may congratulate you on your daughter. A heartier infant never was born anywhere on the water trail between the Mountain and the Messasebe. What name have you chosen for the young lady, Monsieur?"
"I have decided," said John Law, "to call her Catharine." _