Adventure Magazine Cover, March 20, 1925 — page 138: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

120 “This post is too near the Niagara to serve as a prison. And there’s the Rat. Until I know which way he’ll jump we can’t leave them here. That leaves but one course: Take them all back to Mackinac and leave them heavily guarded. We will start with them for the point in the morning, if you, messieurs, agree.” Tonty and Du Lhut did agree, and the former added: “No rum should be given our savages tonight. At least, only a little.” “They will want the rum, but if they have it they will do evil. We'll have to watch them as well as the prisoners. And they’ll be too sick to travel tomorrow,” said Durantaye. “But we can give them plenty of gifts and promise them brandy after we’ve whipped the Iroquois.” With the situation thus adjusted the three set about selecting a camp for the new prisoners. Rooseboom’s and Mac- Gregorie’s bands were not to be allowed any intercourse. A spot was chosen some dis- tance from that occupied by Rooseboom’s men and with the post between. Men were selected to guard the new camp. By the time all these arrangements were made the firing of guns announced the coming of the prisoners, and a rush was made to the shore. Colonel Patrick MacGregorie, a favorite of Dongan, was in the first canoe, very dour of expression. There had been a fight, for the Scotchman was not lacking in courage and was loath to lose goods worth nine thousand beaver. But with the odds hopelessly against him he had surrendered to save loss of life. Continuous cheering greeted the twenty loaded canoes as they were lined up along the shore. Durantaye talked apart with MacGregorie for a few moments, then gave his orders, and the prisoners were conducted to their camp and warned that any attempt to escape would be met with instant death. The goods were not unloaded, as it was pro- posed to take them along with the prison- ers to Mackinac. After routine had been established some of the rum was opened to satisfy the clam- orous demands of the coureurs de bois, but only a little was distributed among the prisoners. While Carcajou approved of jollifications he was glad the Indians were to be denied their debauch; and he drank sparingly himself. When it grew dark and the coureurs de bois were making the night Adventure hideous with their howling and dancing and singing and fighting he disappeared long enough to appropriate two canoes con- taining the worth of a thousand beaver, and to hide the same some distance north of the St. “They will break our heads with head- breakers!’ groaned Papa La Blanche after he had been taken into the Wolverene’s confidence. ‘‘You’re very drunk, or you would never dream of trying to trade for Perrot again with stolen goods. That story of finding them won’t go down again.” “You are very old and talk like a child, Papa Simple,” jeered Carcajou. ‘“‘No one can look me in the eye and prove I stole the goods. ‘There will be much running about and much confusion in the morning. There are many coureurs de bois here as well as the Indians. Who knows but what John Black or any one of a hundred woods run- ners took them? The commandant will be careful not to lose his woods runners by charging them with theft. “As to trading for M’sieur Perrot, I’ve done that once. I kept my word about covering my own dead; and he takes a fat profit. But what about little Carcajou when he comes back from the Iroquois fight? “Our royal papa, Old Louis, won’t think to outfit me with goods. Can’t you see, imbecile, that I must have something to trade for myself? I shall not forget you, Old Weakness. You shall have some red cloth and rassade to trade for wives.” ‘“‘There is evil around us,” muttered La Blanche. “I dreamed of a black ax in the moon last night. That means some one I know very well is about to die.” Carcajou crossed himself and philosophi- cally decided: “If Death is near keeping away from the rum won’t keep the old man away. Come. Some rum and a song.” He ran to where the coureurs de bois were feasting and drinking, leaped into the cen- ter of the big circle, smote Dubeau mightily on the shoulder, snatched his dish of rum and drank most of it. Dubeau, who was half drunk, seized his arm in an iron grip and led him aside. “Not now, big bear. You’re too drunk. ' At least wait till I catch up with you.” “Eat your tongue,” rumbled Dubeau. “My mother was a Huron. The Huron CORnNICLOe (©