The Greenville journal. [volume] (Greenville, Ohio) 1850-1918, 1916-08-31
CHAPTER XII.
The Murder of Chevet


Who had killed him? What should
| do? These were the two questions
haunting my mind. and becoming more
and more insistent. The light still
burned in the mission house, and
could picture the scene within - the
three priests reading, or talking softly
to each other, and Cassion asleep on
his bench in the corner, wearied with
the day.
could not understand, could not
imagine cause, and yet the assassin
must have been D'Artigny. How else
could l account for his presence there
in the night, his efforts at conceal
ment, his bending over the dead body,
and then hurrying away without
sounding an alarm. The evidence
against the man seemed conclusive,
and yet would not condemn. There
might be other reasons for his ST.
lence for his secret presence, and If
l rushed into the house, proclaiming
my discovery and confessing what
had seen, he would be left without
defense.
Shrinking, shuddering at every
shadow, at every sound, my nerves
throbbing with agony, managed to
drag my body up the logs, and in
through the window. was safe there,
but there was no banishing from men,
ory what l had seen-what l knew
lay yonder in the wood shadow.
sank to the floor, clutching the sill, my
eyes staring through the moonlight.
Once | thought l saw mans indis-
tinct figure move across an open space,
and once heard voices far away.
l do not know that | was called,
yet when l awoke a faint light pro-
claiming the dawn was in the sky,
and sounds Of activity reached my
ears from the room below. l felt tired
and cramped from my unnatural posi-
ton, but hastened to- join the others.
The morning meal was already on the
table, and we ate as usual, no one
mentioning Chevet, thus proving the
body had not been discovered. l could
scarcely choke the food down, antici-
pating every instant the sounding Of
an alarm. Cassion hurried, excited, no
doubt, by the prospect Of getting away
on our journey, but seemed in excel
lent humor. Pushing back the box on
which he sat he buckled his pistol belt,
seized his hat and strobe to the door.
I'VE depart at once" he proclaimed
briefly. $50 will leave you here to
bring the lady"
Pere Allouez, still busily engaged,
murmured some indistinct reply and
Cassion's eyes met mine.
you look pale and weary this morn
ing" he said. Not fear of the voy-
age, hopeY
mo, monsieur" managed to an
swer quietly. 81 slept i'll, but shall be
better presently - shall bear my
blankets to the boatsY
THE servant will see to that, only
let there be as little delay as possible.
All! here comes a messenger from
belOw-what is it, my man?"
The fellow, one of the soldiers whose
face l did not recall, halted in the
open door, gasping for breath, his eyes
rowing about the room.
HE is dead-the big man." he stam-
mered. "He is there by the woods"
"The big man-dead| CassiOn drew
back, as though struck blow. what
big man? Whom do you mean"
"The one in the second canoe, mon
sieur; the one who roared."
"Chevet? Hugo Chevet? What has
to him? Come, speak up, or
I'll slit your tongueP'
The man gulped, gripping the door
with one hand, the other pointing out
ward.
He is there, monsieur, beyond the
trail, at the edge of the wood. saw
him with his face turned up Mon
dieul so white; dare not touch him,
but there was blood where a knife
had entered his back"
All were On their feet, their faces
picturing the sudden horror, yet Cas-
sion was first to recover his wits, and
lead the way without. Grasping the
arm and bidding him show