Wausau pilot. [volume] (Wausau, Wis.) 1896-1940, 1916-10-03

ton along the surface of the river.
1t was a dizzy drop to the bed of the
stream below, but Indians We're on the
opposite bank, beyond rife shot. in
considerable force. half-doZen ca
noes drawn up on the sandy shore, and
several fires burning. They were too
far away for me to judge their tribe,
yet number among them sported war
bonnets, and had no doubt they were
Iroquois.
So far as could perceive elsewhere,
there was no movement, as my eyes
Travelled the half-circle, over a wide
vista of hill and dale, green valley
and dark woods, although to the left
l could occasionally hear the sharp re-
port of a rifle, in evidence that besicg-
ing savages were still watchtul Of the
fort entrance l could not lean out far
enough to see in that direction. yet as
the night grew darker the vicious sQits
of fire became visible. Above me the
solid log walls arose but few feet
a tall man might stand upon the win
dow ledge, and find grip of the roof;
but below was the sheer drop to the
river-perchance Two hundred feet be-
meath. Already darkness shrouded
the water. as the broad valley faded
into the gloom of the night.
There was naught for me TO do but
sit and wait The guard which M.
Cassion had stationed at the door pre-
vented my leaving the room, but its
more probable purpose was to keep
others from communicating with me.
De Tonty had evidently resorted to
diplomacy. and instead Of quarrelirg
with the three officers when they ap-
preached him, had greeted them all SO
genially as to leave the impression that
he was disposed to permit matters 10
take their natural course. He might
he watched of course, yet was no
longer suspected as likely to help res
cue the prisoner. All their fear now
was conferred upon me, and my pos
sible influence.
III could be kept from any further
communication with either D'Artigny
or De Tonty, it was scarcely probable
that any of the garrison would make
serious effort to interfere with theis
plans. De Tonty's apparent indiffer>
ence, and his sudden friendliness with
De Baugis and Cassion, did not worry
me greatly. l realized his purpose in
| thus diverting suspicion. His pledge
of assistance had been given me. and
his was the word Of soldier and gen.
| tleman. In some manner. and soon
before midnight certainly would re-
ceive message from Boisrondet.
Yet my heart failed me more than
once as l waited How long the time
seemed, and how deadly silent was the
night. Crouched close beside the door
l could barely hear the muttered con-
versation of the soldiers on guard
and when l crossed to the open win
dow l looked out upon a black void
utterly soundless.
Not even the distant crack of rife
now broke the solemn stiffness. and
! the only spot of color visible was the
| dull red glow of a campfire on the OPP.
apostle bank of the river. | had no way
of computing time, and the tagging
hours seemed centuries long. as terri
| flying doubts assailed me.
Every new thought became an agony
of suspense. Had the plans failed
Had Boisrondet discovered the pris
oner so closely guarded as to make res
cue impossible? Had his nerve, his
daring, vanished before the real dan
ger of the venture? Had D'Artigny
refused to accept the chance? What
! had happened; what was happening
out there in the mystery?
| <un DE, C.ONrTTNrTrED