ime could not sleep, but lay looking
out at the two men seated before the fire smoking. I could hear their
voices, and scraps of conversation--De Artigny telling the tale of the
exploration of the great river to its mouth in the salt sea, and
Barbeau relating many a strange adventure in the wilderness. It was a
scene long to be remembered--the black shadows all about, the silence
of the great woods, the sense of loneliness, the red and yellow flames
of the fire, and the two men telling tales of wild adventure amid the
unknown.

At last they grew weary also, and lay down, pillowed their heads on
their arms, and rested motionless. My own eyes grew heavy, and I fell
asleep.

CHAPTER XXII

WE MEET WITH DANGER

It was late in the afternoon of the second day when we arrived at the
forks of the Chicago river. There was a drizzle of rain in the air,
and never saw I a more desolate spot; a bare, dreary plain, and away
to the eastward a glimpse of the lake.

A hut of logs, a mere shack scarcely fit for shelter, stood on a
slight eminence, giving wide view in every direction, but it was
unoccupied, the door ajar. Barbeau, in advance, stared at it in
surprise, gave utterance to an oath, and ran forward to peer within.
Close behind him I caught a glimpse of the interior, my own heart
heavy with disappointment.

If this miserable place had been the headquarters of M. de la
Durantaye, evidently it was so no longer. Not a vestige of occupancy
remained, save a rotten blanket on the floor, and a broken bench in
one corner. Rude bunks lined two walls, and a table hewed from a log
stood in the center of the dirt floor. On this was a paper pinned to
the wood by a broken knife blade. 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. "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. "Ther