The Greenville journal. [volume] (Greenville, Ohio) 1850-1918, 1916-09-07
CHAPTER Xiii.
The Break Of Storm.

The Break of Storm.
| We had no more pleasant weather
for days, the skies being overcast and
the wind damp and chill. 1t did not
rain, nor were the waves dangerous,
although choppy enough to make pad
ding tiresOme and difficult.
A mist obscured the view and COM
PEELED us to cling close to the shore
so as to prevent becoming lost in the
smother, and as we dare not venture
to strike out boldly from point to
point, we lost much time in creep
ing along the curves.
The canoes kept closer together,
never venturing to become separated,
and the men stationed on watch in
the bows continually called to each
other across the tossing waters in
guidance. Even D'Artigny kept with
in sight, and made camp with us at
night, although he made no effort to
seek me, nor did l once detect that he
even glanced in my direction. The
studied Indifference of the man ,puZ-
zled me more than it angered, but
| believed it was his consciousness of
guilt, rather than any dislike which
caused his avoidance. In a way
rejoiced at his following this course,
as l felt bound by my pledge to Cas-
sion, and had no desire to further
arouse the Jealousy of the latter, yet
| remained woman, and consequent
ly felt measure Of regret at being
thus neglected and ignored.
had no knowledge of the date. nor
a very clear conception Of where we
were. The night before we had camped
at the mouth OF a small stream, the
surrounding forest growing down close
to the shore, and so thick as to be
almost impenetrable. The men had
set up my tent so close to the water
the waves broke scarcely foot away,
and the fire about which the others
clustered for warmth was but a few
yards distant.
Wrapped in my blankets | saw
D'Artigny emerge from the darkness
and approach Cassion, who drew a
map from his belt pocket and spread
it open on the ground in the glare of
the fire. The two men bent over it.
tracing the lines with finger tips, evil
dently determining their course for
the morrow. Then D'Artigny made
few notes on scrap of paper. arose
to his feet and disappeared.
They had scarcely exchanged
word, and the feeling Of enmity be-
tween them was apparent Cassion
sat quiet, the map still open, and
stared after the younger man until he
vanished in the darkness. The look
upon his face was not a pleasant one.
Impelled by a sudden impulse
arose to my feet, the blanket still
draped about my shoulders. and
crossed the open space TO the fire
Cassion, hearing the sound of my ap-
prOach. glanced around, his frown
changing instantly into a smile.
"Ah, quite an adventure this" he
said, adopting a tone of pleasantly.
THE first time you have left your
tent, madame"
The first time l have felt desire to
do So" retorted. 81 feel curiosity to
examine your map"
And waited until I was alone: |
appreciate the compliment" and he
removed his hat in mock gallantry.
There was a time when you would
have come earlier"
your sarcasm is quite uncalled for.
You have my pledge relative to the
Sieur d'Arttgny, monsieur, which suf-
fees. If you do not care to give me
glimpse of your map, will retire
again."
"Pouf! do not be SO easily pricked.
spoke in jest. Ay, look at the pa
per, but the tracing is so poor it's no
better than a guess where we are Sit
you down, madame, so the fire gives
light, and will show you our posi-
ton the best 1 can"
did not D'Artigny know?"
HE thinks he does, but his memory
is not over clear, as he was only over |
this course the once. 'Tis here he |
has put the mark, while my guess
would be a few leagues beyond"
bent over, my eyes seeking the |
points indicated. 1 had seen the map |
before, yet it told me little. for | |
was unaccustOmed to such study, and |
the few points, and streams named |
had no real meaning to my mind. The
only familiar term was Chicago Por-
tage, and I pointed to it with my
fingers.
as it there we leave the lake, mon
sieur?"
"Ay; the rest will be river work.
You see this stream? 'Tis called the
Des PLANES, and leads into the Illi-
lOis. D'Artigny says 1t is two miles
inland, across a fiat country. Twas
Pere Marquette who passed this way
first, but since then many have trav-
ersed it. 'Tis like to take US two days
to make the portage"
"And way up here is Port des. Morts.
where we crossed the opening into
Green Bay, and we have come since
I'll this distance. Surely tbs not far
along the shore now to the pOrtageY"
'MOn dieu, who knows! 1t looks
Dut a step on the map, vet tits not
likely the distance has ever been
"What said the Sieur d'ArtignyT'
"Rah! the Sieur d'Artigny; ever It