CHAPTER I
I MAKE MY BOW IN CAHOKIA
"The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men Gang aft a-gley."
"And this is the village of St. Louis, sir?"
I bowed respectfully to my captain standing in the prow of the boatand looking across an expanse of swirling muddy water to the villageon the bluffs beyond. I spoke more after the manner of making politeconversation than because I was desirous of information, for I knewwithout asking that it could be none other.
My captain answered me: "Yes, my lad, yonder is St. Louis, and this isDe Soto's river; what dost think of it?"
"I think, sir, 'tis a great river, though not so clear a stream as theDelaware, and muddier even than the Ohio."
I spoke calmly, but my heart was beating fast, and I could feel theblood rushing through my veins. I had been ill with what the boatmencall river fever, and had lain in the bottom of the boat wrapped inmy blanket, alternately shivering with chills and burning with fever,oblivious to all about me, so that I had not known when we swept outof the Ohio into the Mississippi, past Fort Massac, nor when we hadtied up at Kaskaskia for a long rest.
We had landed late the evening before at Cahokia, and been mosthospitably entertained by Mr. Gratiot. There had been a great banquetin honor of Captain Clarke, with dancing far into the night, and manyguests from St. Louis. I, being still an invalid, had been put to bedin Mr. Gratiot's beautiful guest-chamber, and given a hot posset thatput me to sleep at once, though not so soundly but that I coulddreamily catch occasional strains of the fiddles and the rhythmicsound of feet on the waxed walnut, and many voices and much laughter.
Had I been well, it would have vexed me sore not to have been able tolead in the minuet one of the beauties of Cahokia, whose fame hadreached even my distant home in Philadelphia, for I had been carefullytrained in the steps and the figures, and was young enough to be proudof my skill in the dance. But feeling ill as I did, the sounds ofrevelry combined with the posset only to soothe me into a heavyslumber.
I woke in the early dawn to find Yorke, Captain Clarke's big black,standing beside my bed, with a bowl of smoking gruel. He showed aformidable array of white ivory as he grinned amiably in response tomy questioning look:
"Mars' Gratiot send you de gruel wid his complimen's, sah, and he andde capen bofe say you's not to git up dis mohnen, sah."
Yorke always considered that to state a request of "de capen" wassufficient to insure compliance. He could not dream of any one settinghis authority at naught. With me, too, Captain Clarke's authority wasparamount. It had only been by a promise of absolute submission tothat authority that I had persuaded my kinsman in Kentucky to allow meto accompany the captain on his mission to the governor of Illinois atSt. Louis.
So, when Yorke said the captain had ordered me to remain in bed, Ithought for a moment I would have to obey; but having swallowed thehot gruel, into which Yorke had put a modicum of good Orleans ratafia,I was straightway infused with new spirit (I meant not that for wit),and such strength flowed through my limbs as I had not felt for days.
"Yorke," I said, springing out of bed with a haste that made melight-headed for a moment, "help me into my clothes, and be quickabout it; I think I hear sounds below that betoken getting ready fordeparture."
Even as I spoke I ran to a stand on which stood a basin and a smallewer of water. I filled the basin, and plunged my head into the icywater. I drew it out, sputtering and shivering, and, seizing a towel,gave my head and neck and hair so vigorous a rubbing that I did notsee Yorke slip out of the room. When I turned to speak to him I foundhim gone, afraid either of being a partner in my disobedience to thecaptain, or of being left behind if he delayed longer.
Left to myself, I did my best to hurry with my clothing. I had notmuch experience in dressing myself, but I had been compelled to leavebehind me in Philadelphia the black boy who had never before, since Icould remember, been absent from me a day. I had been eager enough topart with him, thinking it ill befitted a soldier of fortune, as Iintended to be, to be coddled by a valet, and I had not missed himmuch, for Yorke had been always ready to lend a helping hand when Ineeded it. Now I was of a mind to curse the vanity that had led me tofit myself out with doeskins that were of so snug a cut they neededmuch tugging to get into them, and with endless lacings with which myawkward fingers, clumsier than ever from the icy water and thetrembling the fever had left me in, fumbled desperately.
But I was ready at last, and seizing my sword-belt in one hand and myhat in the other, I started with hot haste for the door, fearing Imight be, after all, too late. As I opened it, a sound smote my earsthat struck terror to my heart: the voices and the laughter of youngmaidens. I stepped back involuntarily. I had not thought of thepossibility of meeting any one at that early hour but my host and mycaptain, and I had not given a thought to my appearance. Now I took ananxious survey of myself in the small French mirror that hung abovethe stand. I was vexed beyond measure at what I saw.
"They will take me for a girl," I muttered between my teeth, "andflout me accordingly."
It had ever been a source of extreme mortification to me that I shouldhave rosy cheeks like any maiden's, but now, owing to the hardscrubbing I had given them, they were all aflame, and their color washeightened by the pallor my recent illness had given to brow andtemples. My hair, from its wetting, was curling in ringlets all aroundmy head. I seized a brush and tried desperately to reduce them tostraightness, but the brushing served only to bring out in strongerrelief the glint of gold that I despised, and certainly my eyes hadnever looked more blue and shining.
"They will think me a girl or a baby!" I muttered once more, and wasin such disgust with myself I was ready to go back to bed. Butbethinking me that would only leave me the longer in this House ofDames, I seized my belt once more, buckled it on with a vicioustwitch, and strode boldly to the door.
There I stopped a moment to collect all my courage, soothing myselfwith the reflection that I stood a good six feet in my moccasins, andthough I carried no superfluous flesh, my shoulders were as broad asmy captain's and my muscles like whip-cords. Fortified by theseconsiderations, I strode on boldly to the landing at the head of thewide staircase leading down to the great hall.
There I stopped again; for while the landing was in gloom, the hallwas brilliantly illuminated by a roaring, blazing lightwood fire,looking cheery enough in the gray light of the frosty morning, andthrowing into strong relief two groups on either side of thefireplace. On one side stood my captain, evidently ready for a start,and making his adieus to his host. I glanced eagerly at Mr. Gratiotand at the elderly man who stood beside him, who, I thought, waslikely to be none other than Mr. Francis Vigo. I had heard much ofthese two men from General George Rogers Clarke, whose lonely retreaton the Ohio I had often visited during my stay in Kentucky. They hadbeen General Clarke's best friends and helpers in the early days ofthe war, when he had made that daring attack on Vincennes, and I knewCaptain Clarke's mission to St. Louis had something to do withdischarging his brother's obligation to them. They were smaller menthan my captain, of a slender, graceful build, and the hair of bothwas quite white, but from my post of observation I could see that theywere men of courtly manners, well used to the ways of the world, andtalking now quite eagerly with all the wealth of gesture andexpression natural to Frenchmen.
The firelight played strongly on the face of my captain, whom I hadalready begun to adore, as did every one who came into closecompanionship with him. I gazed admiringly at his broad, white brow,clear-cut features, and firmly knit figure, a little square of build,but looking every inch the frontier soldier in his leathern doubletand leggings and high-laced moccasins. Over one shoulder he had thrownhis blue military cloak, for the trip across the river promised to bea cold one, and he carried in his hand a hat with a drooping plume. Iwondered if the merry group of girls on the other side of thefireplace was not impressed by such a handsome and soldierly stranger,and a bachelor to boot. I thought I could detect an occasionalco
nscious glance in his direction and a furtive preening of skirts andfluttering of fans, that betokened they were not insensible to thepresence of the brave captain.
There were six of the young maidens, and all but two of them were inball costume; flowered silks, and arms and shoulders gleaming whitethrough fine lace, powdered hair, and patches and paint, they mighthave stepped out of a Philadelphia ball-room, I thought, and wasastonished at the thought. I had not expected to find court beautieson the frontier, yet the Chouteaus, the Gratiots, and the Papins werenames I had often heard in my own home as men of wealth and vastemprise.
The six girls were chatting gaily in French, and I was so absorbed inmy contemplation of them that I did not at first consider thestrangeness of their appearance in that costume so early in themorning. When it did occur to me, I concluded the four must have comeover from St. Louis to attend the ball and had no other dress toreturn in, and the other two were doubtless Mr. Gratiot's daughters,which I learned afterward was the true explanation.
But now bethinking me it was high time to make my descent, and runningquickly over in my mind the way to make it most effective,--for Iwished to bear myself bravely before the young maidens,--I determinedto place my left hand on the hilt of my sword, to hold my hat, whichalso bore a sweeping plume, in my right hand pressed close to myheart, and with head held high and borne a little backward, to descendwith the stately minuet step. I flattered myself that with such amanner as I felt sure I could assume those saucy maidens would forgetmy rosy cheeks and my curls and think only of my air of _grandseigneur_.
I glanced down to see that my costume was all right, and now I wasglad that my doeskins fitted so perfectly, even if they were hard toget into in a hurry, that my high moccasins were so beautifully andelaborately beaded in purple and yellow, with broad slashes of fringefalling from the tops of them, and that my leathern doublet sat sowell, as my peep into the mirror had convinced me it did.
As I started down, feeling well satisfied with my costume, yettrembling inwardly at the thought of the array of bright eyes I was toencounter, my glance fell on an untied lacing at one knee. I stoopedto retie it, and at that moment heard what seemed to me the sweetestvoice I had ever listened to, call:
"A moi, Leon, a moi," followed by a clear, soft whistle.
I was still clumsily fumbling with my lacers (my fingers have everbeen all thumbs when there is any dainty task to be performed) when Iheard a rush of soft, padded feet, and down the corridor behind me, inresponse to that clear whistle, bounded a great dog. Through the archthat my bent limbs made in stooping he saw the glow of the firelightfrom below and made straight for it. But alas! the arch was narrowerthan he thought, and dog and man went rolling and tumbling down thestaircase, bumping and bounding from stair to stair, a wild melee ofdoeskin legs and shaggy paws and clanging sword and wildly brandishedarms, making vain clutches at the air to stay the headlong descent.
Deep-mouthed yelps voiced the terror of the dog at this unexpectedSindbad who refused to be shaken off. No words could voice theoverwhelming shame of the man at this unmannerly presentation ofhimself before a group of young maidens, when so dignified an entrancehad been planned.
As we struck the polished walnut of the hall floor, I disentangledmyself and sprang to my feet, where I stood, scarlet with shame, headdrooping, a pitiable object indeed. There had been an amazed, andperhaps on the maidens' side a terrified, silence during our noisydescent. Now from the maidens there arose first a suppressed giggleand then an irresistible peal of laughter, joined to the heartyguffaws of the men. My shame was fast giving place to rising wrath, inno degree appeased by the consciousness of the spectacle I presented.The dog, a magnificent mastiff, by that time recovering from hisconfusion, and feeling as keenly as I, no doubt, the derogation of hisdignity, and, with a dog's unreason, regarding me as the agent of hishumiliation when I was in fact the victim of his own stupidity, sprangat me with a vicious growl.
Here was an occasion to vent my boiling wrath. Quick as thought mysword sprang from its sheath and came down flat-sided with a ringingblow on the brute's head. I have ever been a merciful man to allbeasts, and dogs and horses I have loved and they have loved me; andeven in my wrath and the quick necessity of defense I remembered touse the flat of my sword; yet such is the strength of my sword-armfrom much practice, increased, I fear, by a venom instigated by thosesilvery peals of laughter, that I bowled the brute over as easily asif he had been a ninepin.
With a howl of mingled rage and pain he recovered himself instantlyand crouched to spring upon me once more, with such bloodthirst in hiseyes that I saw now I would have to defend myself in earnest. But ashe was almost in the act of springing, from among the group of maidensthere rushed what seemed to my dazzled vision a small whirlwind ofsatins and laces and velvets and jewels, and flung itself upon the dogwith a ringing cry of "A bas, Leon! tais-toi, mon ange!"
The brute yielded obedience at once to the restraining arm and tonesof command, though still regarding me with vicious eyes and utteringthreatening growls.
As for me, I stood as if turned to stone, still in an attitude ofdefense, the weight of my body thrown forward on the right foot, thehilt of my sword pressed against my breast, the point presented toreceive the onslaught of the brute. In that attitude I stood frozen,for never had I beheld such a vision of loveliness. The arm thatencircled the shaggy neck of the dog was bare almost to the shoulder,the sleeve of finest lace having fallen back in the energy of heraction, and never have I seen an arm so white, so round, or taperingso finely to the slender wrist and exquisite little hand clutching alock of Leon's mane. Masses of wavy dark hair were drawn loosely backfrom a brow of dazzling whiteness into a cluster of soft curls on topof the head, where it seemed to be caught by a jeweled aigret, whichyet permitted tiny ringlets to escape about the temples and the napeof the snowy neck. She had thrown herself with such abandon on thedog, and was holding him with such exertion of strength, that thenarrow skirt of her satin gown, flowered in palest pink and silver,revealed every line of a most exquisite figure down to the little footextending backward from her skirts and showing the high arch of theinstep in its stocking of embroidered silk.
I had gazed with impunity, for the drooping white lids and the long,dark lashes sweeping the perfect curve of the cheek showed all herlooks were for the dog, to whom she incessantly murmured in Frenchmingled words of command and endearment. But suddenly she lifted herlittle head and flung it proudly back, with such a blaze ofindignation and scorn in her dark eyes I felt withered under it. Thescarlet curve of her lips fell away to disclose two rows of pearlyteeth, close set, and through them, with a vicious snap, came the oneword:
"Bete!"
I could not for a moment think that the word was meant for the dog,and such a rage slowly welled in my veins as restored me at once tomy self-command. I dropped the point of my sword to the floor andstraightened myself to as proud a pose as hers.
"I pray you pardon, Mademoiselle," I said haughtily. The words weremeek enough, but not the tone nor the manner, and so enraged was Ithat I hesitated not a moment over my French. My accent, I knew, wasgood, for, my aunt having married Monsieur Barbe Marbois, I was thrownmuch with French people; but I had been ever careless of my grammar,and in a moment of less excitement I might have hesitated in venturingon the native tongue of so fair a creature. But now my French pouredfrom me in an angry torrent:
"I pray you pardon. Danger alone is my excuse. I do not doubt a dog isworth much more to Mademoiselle than the life of an Americangentleman. I make you, Mademoiselle, my compliments and my excuses."
Then returning my sword to its scabbard with an angry ring, I made hera low and sweeping bow of ironical courtesy and strode hotly from theroom. I was in such a tumult of rage and mortification that not untilI reached the landing on the banks of Cahokia Creek, where the boatswere tied and the men busily making ready for the departure, did Ibethink me that I had left the house without a word of adieus orthanks to my host for his courtesy. I began
to fear that my sense ofself-respect would compel my return, and rather would I have faced abattalion of the British than another flash from those dark eyes; norcould I hope to make another so masterly a retreat as I plumed myselfthis one had been. But as I glanced back toward the house on thebluffs that had proved my undoing, to my intense relief I saw that thethree gentlemen had followed not far behind me and were even nowdescending the pathway to the creek. I hastened to meet them and makemy apologies.
A more courteous gentleman than Mr. Gratiot I never met. He spoke verygood English indeed, his accent I believe not so good as my Frenchone, but his grammar much better.
"My dear young gentleman, you acquitted yourself nobly," he was kindenough to say. "In the eyes of the young ladies, if I may possiblyexcept Mademoiselle Pelagie, you are a hero. But they are muchchagrined that you should have left them without giving them a chanceto express their sympathy or their admiration."
The sound of those silvery peals of laughter was too vividly in myremembrance to permit me to accept Mr. Gratiot's compliments without alarge grain of allowance for a Frenchman's courtesy, but I bowed lowin seeming to accept them. Then he introduced me to his companion, whoproved not to be Mr. Vigo after all, but Dr. Saugrain, the Frenchemigre so renowned for his learning. I looked at him keenly as I mademy bow, for I had heard something of him in Philadelphia, and inKentucky there had been so many tales of the wonderful things he coulddo that I think most people looked upon him as a dealer in black arts.But he was in no respect my idea of a Mephisto. He was small and wiryof build, and dressed in black small-clothes, with ruffles of finestlace at wrist and knee.
Black silk stockings showed a well-turned calf in no whit shrunkenwith age, and his silver shoe-buckles glittered with brilliants. Hishair, iron-gray and curly, was tied in a short queue with a blacksatin ribbon, and beneath a rather narrow and high brow beamed two askindly blue eyes as it had ever been my lot to meet.
His greeting was most cordial, though there was a merry twinkle in hiseye while speaking to me that made me feel he might still be laughinginwardly at my ridiculous descent of Mr. Gratiot's staircase. With avery grand manner indeed, and with much use of his hands, as is thefashion of Frenchmen, he said:
"My dear sir, it mek me mos' proud and mos' 'appy to know you. Vousetes veritablement un brave. Le capitaine dine chez moi to-day; Is'all be desole and inconsolable if he bring not also his ver' dearyoung frien'." Then, with a sudden and entire change of manner, helaid his finger beside his nose and said in a loud whisper:
"My frien', I would not min' you kill that dog, moi! I lofe 'im not."
But while his words did not sound kind to me, who am such a lover ofdogs that nothing but the necessity of self-defense would ever make melift a hand against one, yet, all the time he spoke, his eyes twinkledmore merrily than ever, and I wondered at the man whose manner couldchange so quickly from the grand seigneur's to that of a king'sjester, and I puzzled my brains mightily to know what his connectionwith the dog could be.