The Hidden Children

"Your age."

"Oh! My age.... And pretty?"

"The world thinks so."

"Oh! And what do you think, Euan?"

"Yes, she is pretty," said I carelessly.

There was a long silence. I sat there, my knees gathered in my arms, staring up at the stars.

Then, faintly came her voice:

"Good-night, Euan."

I rose, laid hold of the willow bush that scraped my shoulders, felt over it until I found the dangling broken branch; stepped forward, groping, until I touched the next broken branch. Then, knowing I was on my trail, I turned around and called back softly through the darkness:

"Good-night, little Lois!"

"Good-night, and sweet dreams, Euan. I will be dressed and waiting for you in the morning to go to Mrs. Bleecker, or to receive her as you and she think fitting.... Is there a looking glass in that same wonder-box?"

"Two, Lois."

"You dear and generous lad!… And are there hair-pegs? Heaven knows if my clipped poll will hold them. Anyway, I can powder and patch, and—oh, Euan! Is there lip-red and curd-lily lotion for the skin? Not that I shall love you any less if there be none–"

"I bespoke of Mr. Hake," said I, laughing, "a full beauty battery, such as I once saw Betty Schuyler show to Walter Butler, having but then received it from New York. And all I know, Lois, is that it was full of boxes, jars, and flasks, and smelled like a garden in late June. And if Mr. Hake has not chosen with discretion I shall go South and scalp him!"

"Euan, I adore you!"

"You adore your battery," said I, not convinced.

"That, too. But you more than my mirrors, and my lip-red, and the lily lotion—more than my darling shifts and stays and shoon and gowns!… I had never dreamed I could accept them from you. But you had become so dear to me—and I could read you through and through—and found you so like myself—and it gave me a new pleasure to humble my pride to your desires. That is how it came about. Also, I saw those ladies.... And I do not think I shall be great friends with your Lana Helmer—even when I am fine and brave in gown and powder to face her on equal terms–"

"Lois, what in the world are you babbling?"

"Let me babble, Euan. Never have I been so happy, so content, so excited yet so confident.... Listen; do you dread tomorrow?"

"I?"

"Yes—that I might not do you honour before your fashionable friends?… And I say to you, have no fear. If my gowns are truly what I think they are, I shall conduct without a tremour—particularly if your Lana be there, and that careless, rakish friend of yours, Lieutenant Boyd."

"Do you remember what you are to say to Boyd if he seems in any wise to think he has met you elsewhere?"

"I can avoid a lie and deal with him," she said with calm contempt. "But there is not a chance he'd know me in my powder."

There was a silence. Then the unseen water rippled and splashed.

"Poor Euan!" she said. "I wish you might dare swim here in this heavenly place with me. But we are not god and goddess, and the fabled age is vanished.... Good-night, dear lad.... And one thing more.... All you are to me—all you have done for me—don't you understand that I could not take it from you unless, in my secret heart, I knew that one day I must be to you all you desire—and all I, too, shall learn to wish for?"

"It is written," I said unsteadily. "It must come to pass."

"It must come," she said, in the hushed voice of a child who dreams, wide-eyed awake, murmuring of wonders.

I slept on the river-sand, not soundly, for all night long men and horses splashed in the water all around me, and I was conscious of many people stirring, of voices, the dip of paddles, and of the slow batteaux passing with the wavelets slapping on their bows. Then, the next I knew—bang! And the morning gun jarred me awake.

I had bathed and dressed, but had not yet breakfasted when one of our regimental wagons came to take the box to Lois—a fine and noble box indeed, in its parti-coloured cowhide cover, and a pretty pattern of brass nails all over it, making here a star and there a sunburst, around the brass plate engraven with her name: "Lois de Contrecoeur."

Then the wagon drove away, and the Sagamore and I broke bread together, seated in the willow shade, the heat in our bush-hut being insupportable.

"No more scalps, Mayaro?" I taunted him, having already inspected the unpleasant trophies behind the hut. "How is this, then? Are the Cats all skinned?"

He smiled serenely. "They have crept westward to lick their scars, Loskiel. A child may safely play in the forest now from the upper castle and Torloch to the Minnisink."

"Has Amochol gone?"

"To make strong magic for his dead Cats, little brother. The Siwanois hatchets are still sticking in the heads of Hiokatoo's Senecas. Let their eight Sachems try to pull them out."

"So you have managed to wound a Seneca or two?"

"Three, Loskiel—but the rifle was one of Sir William's, and carried to the left, and only a half-ounce ball. My brother Loskiel will make proper requisition of the Commissary of Issues and draw a weapon fit for a Mohican warrior."

"Indeed I will," said I, smilingly, knowing well enough that the four-foot, Indian-trade, smooth bore was no weapon for this warrior; nor was it any kindness in such times as these to so arm our corps of Oneida scouts.

After breakfast I went to the fort and found that Major Parr and his command had come in the night before from their long and very arduous scout beyond the Canajoharrie Castle.

The Major received me, inquiring particularly whether I had contrived to keep the Sagamore well affected toward our cause; and seemed much pleased when I told him that this Siwanois and I had practiced the rite of blood-brotherhood.

"Excellent," said he. "And I don't mind admitting to you that I place very little reliance on the mission Indians as guides—neither on the Stockbridge runners nor on the Oneidas, who have come to us more in fear of the Long House than out of any particular loyalty or desire to aid us."

"That is true, sir. They had as soon enter hell as Catharines-town."

The Major nodded and continued to open and read the letters which had arrived during his absence.

"May I draw one of our rifles for my Mohican, sir?" I asked.

"We have very few. Schott's men have not yet all drawn their arms."

"Nevertheless–"

"You think it necessary?"

"I think it best to properly arm the only reliable guide this army has in its service, Major."

"Very well, Mr. Loskiel.... And see that you keep this fellow in good humour. Use your own wit and knowledge; do as you deem best. All I ask of you is to keep this wild beast full fed and properly flattered until we march."

"Yes, sir," I said gravely, thinking to myself in a sad sort of wonder how utterly the majority of white men mistook their red brethren of the forest, and how blind they were not to impute to them the same humanity that they arrogated to themselves.

So much could have been done had men of my blood and colour dealt nobly with a noble people. Yet, even Major Parr, who was no fool and who was far more enlightened than many, spoke of a Mohican Sagamore as "this wild beast," and seriously advised me to keep him "full fed and properly flattered!"