Chapter II: The Outlaws

The little battalion of Alphonse D'Erlach marched along the edge of a wood which skirted a pleasantly rising ground--one of those gentle undulations which serve to relieve the monotonous levels of the lower regions of Florida. Deep was the umbrage--dense in its depth of green, and dark in its voluminous foliage, the thicket which overlooked their march. Their eyes might not penetrate the enclosure, from which eyes of hate were yet looking forth upon them. The wood concealed the outlaws who had lately made their escape from La Caroline, after the exposure of their conspiracy. They had not ceased to be conspirators. Bold, bad men--sleepless discontents, yearning for plunder and power--the defeat of their schemes, and the necessity of their sudden flight from the scene of their operations, had not lessened the bitterness of their feelings, nor their propensity to evil. Fierce were the glances which they shot forth upon the small troop which D'Erlach conducted before their eyes on his purposes of doubtful policy. Little did he dream what eyes were looking upon him. Could they have blasted with a glance or curse, he had been transformed with all his followers where he passed. But the three conspirators had no power for more than curses. These, though "not loud, were deep." With clenched fists extended towards him on his progress, they devoted him to the wrath of a power which they did not themselves possess; and, watching his course through the parted foliage, until he was fairly out of sight, they delivered themselves, in muttered execrations, of the hate with which his very sight had inspired them. Stephen Le Genevois was the first to speak. He was a stalwart savage, of broad chest, black beard, and most dauntless expression.

"Death of my soul!" was his exclamation; "but that we have lost so much by the game, it were almost merry to laugh at the way in which that brat of a boy has outwitted us. We have been children in his hands."

"He is now in ours," said La Roquette, gloomily.

"Aye, if the Indian keeps his faith," was the desponding comment of Fourneaux.

"And why should he not keep faith," said Le Genevois. "He has good reason for it. When did the hope of plunder fail to secure the savage?"

"You must give him blood with it," responded Fourneaux.

"Aye, it must be seasoned. He must have blood," echoed La Roquette.

"Well, and why not? Do we not give him blood? will he not have this imp of Satan in his power? may he not feed on him if he will? Aye, and upon all his twenty!" exclaimed Le Genevois, fiercely.

"True--but----"

"But, but, but--ever with your buts! You lack confidence, courage, heart, Fourneaux--you despair too easily! I wonder how you ever became a conspirator!"

"I sometimes wonder myself. Ask La Roquette, there. He can tell you. I owe it all to his magic."

"What says your magic now, Roquette--have you any signs for us?"

"Aye, good ones! We shall have what we desire. I have seen--I have said! Be satisfied." This was spoken with due solemnity by the person in whom the credulity of his companions had found sources of power unknown to their experience.

"But why not show us what you have seen? Speak plainly, man. Out with it, and leave that mysterious shaking of the head, which has really nothing in it."

Such was the language of the more manly and impetuous Le Genevois. It provoked only a fierce glance from the magician.

"All in good time," said the latter. "Be patient. We shall soon hear from Oolenoe."

"Good! and you have seen that we shall be successful?" demanded Fourneaux.

"We shall be successful."

"That will depend upon ourselves, rather than upon your visions, I'm thinking," said Le Genevois. "We must have courage, my friends. The signs are not good when we call for signs. If we despond, we are undone."

"Stay--hark!" said Fourneaux, interrupting him eagerly. "I hear sounds."

"The wind only."

"No!--hist."

They bent forward in the attitude of listeners, but heard nothing. They had begun again to speak, when an Indian, covered with leaves artfully glued upon his person, stood suddenly among them. They started to their feet and grasped their weapons.

"_Ami!_" was the single word of the intruder, at he stretched out his arms in signification of friendship.

"Said I not?" demanded the magician, confidently. "This is our man."

His assurance was confirmed by the savage, who spoke the French sufficiently to make himself understood. He came from Oolenoe, and a few sentences sufficed to place both parties in possession of their mutual plans. The outlaws were not without friends in La Caroline. They were to find their way once more into that fortress. They had no fears from the sagacity of Laudonniere, during the absence of the youthful but vigilant D'Erlach; and, for the latter, he was to be disposed of by Oolenoe. And now the question arose, who should venture to "bell the cat?" who should venture himself within the walls of La Caroline?

"Ah!" said one of the conspirators, "if we could only bring Le Genré to his senses. He would be the man."

"Speak nothing of him," cried Le Genevois, quickly; "he is no longer a man. He is a priest. That defeat has killed his courage. He repents, and is constantly writing to Laudonniere for mercy and pity, and all that sort of thing. He must not know what we design."

"Who has seen him lately?"

"I know not. He was crossed to the other side of the river by Captain Bourdet in his boats. He crossed to seek refuge with the people of Mollova."

"He is not far, be sure. He will linger close to the fort, in the hope to get back to it, and, finally, to France. He is not to be thought of in this expedition."

"Who then?" was the demand of Le Genevois. "Somebody must muzzle the cannon. Who? Who will take the peril and the glory of the enterprise, and in the character of an Indian will put his head in the jaws of the danger?"

The question remained unanswered. Fourneaux excused himself on a variety of pleas, not one of which would be satisfactory with a brave man. La Roquette declared that his magical powers were always valueless when any restraint was set upon his person; in other words, he could better perform his incantations when the danger threatened everybody but himself. He certainly would not think of risking them within La Caroline, while Laudonniere was in power. Besides "he had no arts of imitation. He had no abilities as an actor." Stephen Le Genevois smiled as he listened to their pleas and excuses.

"My friends!" he exclaimed. "Did you think that I would suffer a good scheme to be spoiled by such as you? I but waited that you should speak. This adventure is mine, and I claim it. I will return to La Caroline. I will play the spy, and take the danger. Mark ye, now, comrade!"--addressing the Indian,--"prepare me for the business. Clothe me in copper, and make me what you please. I have no beauty that you need fear to spoil."

Thus saying, he threw off, with an air of scornful recklessness, the costume which he wore. Wild was the toilet, and wilder still the guise of our buoyant Frenchman. In an open space within the thicket, beneath a great moss-covered oak, which wore the beard of three centuries upon his breast, the chief conspirator yielded himself to the hands of the Indian. A keen knife shore from his head the thick black hair with which it was covered. A thin ridge alone was suffered to remain upon the coronal region, significant of the war-lock of that tribe of Apalachia, to which Oolenoe belonged. The small golden droplets which hung from the Frenchman's ears, were made to give way to a more massive ornament of shells, cunningly strung upon a hoop of copper wire. His body, stripped to the buff, was then stained with the brown juices of a native plant, which, with other dye-stuffs, the Indian produced from his wallet. His brow was then dyed with deeper hues of red--his cheeks tinged with spots of the darkest crimson, while a heavy circlet of black, about his eyes, gave to his countenance the aspect of a demon rather than that of a man. This done, the savage displayed a small pocket mirror before the eyes of the metamorphosed outlaw. With an oath of no measured emphasis, the Frenchman bounded to his feet, his eyes flashing with a strange delight.

"It will do!" he shouted. "It likes me well! Were I now in France, there would be no wonder beside myself. I should stir the envy of the men--I should win the hearts of the women. I should be the loveliest monster. Ho! Ho! Would that my voice would suit my visage!"

A cotton tunic with which the Indian had provided himself, was wrapped round the loins of our new-made savage, his feet were cased with moccasins, and his legs with leggins made of deerskin--a bow and quiver at his shoulder--a knife in his girdle--a string of peäg or shells about his neck;--and his toilet was complete. That very night, accompanied by his Indian comrade, Stephen Le Genevois entered the walls of La Caroline, bearing messages from Oolenoe and Alphonse D'Erlach--the latter of which, we need scarcely say, were wholly fraudulent. The credulous Laudonniere, delighted with assurances of success on the part of his lieutenant, was not particularly heedful of the nature of the evidence thus afforded him, and laid his head on an easy pillow, around which danger hovered in almost visible forms, while he, unconsciously, dreamed only of golden conquests, and discoveries which were equally to result in fame and fortune. His guardian angel was withdrawn. His mortified vanity had driven from his side the only person whose vigilance might have saved him. His own unregulated will had yielded him, bound, hand and foot, into the power of a relentless enemy.