The Black Feather | Page 2

comfort himself with this thought as he turned to the shop of madame
her aunt, who was also a trader.
It had surprised the Indian widow, who betrothed her own daughter to

the commandant of the fort, that her husband's niece would have
nobody but that big voyageur Charle' Charette. Though in those days of
the young century a man might become anything; for the West was
before him, an empire, and woodcraft was better than learning.
Madame Laboise accepted her niece's husband with kindness. Her
house was among the most hospitable in Mackinac, and she was
chagrined at the reception the young man had met.
He sat down on her counter, whirling his cap and caressing the black
feather in it. The gentle Chippewa woman could see that his childish
pride in this trophy was almost as great as his trouble. What had 'Tite
lacked? he wanted to know. Had he not good credit at the stores?
Tonnerre!--if madame would pardon him--was not his entire year's
wage at the girl's service? Had he spent money on himself, except for
tobacco and necessary buckskins? Madame knew a voyageur was
allowed to carry scarce twenty pounds of baggage in the boats.
Did 'Tite want a better man? Let madame look at the black feather in
his cap. The crow did not fly that could furnish a quill he could not take
from any man in his brigade. Charle' threw out the arch of his beautiful
torso. And he loved her. Madame knew what tears he had shed, what
serenades he had played on his fiddle under 'Tite's window, and how he
had outdanced her other partners. He dropped his head on his breast
and picked at the crow's feather.
The widow Laboise pitied him. But who could account for 'Tite's
whims? "When she heard the boats were in sight she was frantic with
joy. I myself," asserted madame, "saw her clapping her hands when we
could catch the song of the returning voyageurs. It was then 'Oh, my
Charle'! my Charle'!' But scarce have the men leaped on the dock when
off she goes and locks the door of her bedroom. It is 'Tite. I can say no
more."
"What offended her?"
"I know of nothing. You have been as good a husband as a voyageur
could be. And Mackinac is so dull in winter she can amuse herself but
little. It was hard for her to wait your return. Now she will not look at

you. It is very silly."
What would Madame Laboise advise him to do?
Madame would advise him to wait as if nothing had occurred. The curé
would admonish 'Tite if she continued her sulking. In the mean time he
must content himself with tenting or lodging among his
fellow-voyageurs.
Of the two or three thousand voyageurs and clerks, one hundred lived
in the agency house, five hundred were accommodated in barracks, but
the majority found shelter in tents and in the houses of the villagers.
Every night of the fur-trading month there was a ball in Mackinac,
given either by the householders or their guests; and it often happened
that a man spent in one month all he had earned by his year of
tremendous and far-reaching toil. But he had society, and what was to
him the cream of existence, while it lasted. He fitted himself out with
new shirts and buckskins, sashes, caps, neips, and moccasins, and when
he was not on duty showed himself like a hero, knife in sheath, a
weather-browned and sinewy figure. To dance, sing, drink, and play the
violin, and have the scant dozen white women, the half-breeds, and
squaws of Mackinac admire him, was a voyageur's heaven--its brief
duration being its charm. For he was a born woodsman and loved his
life.
Charle' Charette did not care where he lodged. Neither had he any heart
to dance, until he looked through the door of the house where festivities
began that season and saw 'Tite Laboise footing it with Étienne St.
Martin. Parbleu! With Étienne St. Martin, the squab little lard-eater
whose brother, Alexis St. Martin, had been put into doctors' books on
account of having his stomach partly shot away, and a valve forming
over the rent so that his digestion could be watched. It was disgusting.
'Tite would not speak to her own husband, but she would come out
before all Mackinac and dance with any other voyageurs who crowded
about her. Charle' sprang into the house himself, and without looking at
his wife, hilariously led other women to the best places, and danced
with every sinuous and graceful curve of his body. 'Tite did not look at
him. From the corner of his eye he noted how perfect she was, the fiend!

and how well she had dressed