We went back to Kaskaskia, Colonel Clark, Tom, and myself, and a great weight was lifted from our hearts.
A peaceful autumn passed, and we were happy save when we thought of those we had left at home.There is no space here to tell of many incidents.Great chiefs who had not been to the council came hundreds of leagues across wide rivers that they might see with their own eyes this man who had made peace without gold, and these had to be amused and entertained.
The apples ripened, and were shaken to the ground by the winds.The good Father Gibault, true to his promise, strove to teach me French.Indeed, I picked up much of that language in my intercourse with the inhabitants of Kaskaskia.How well I recall that simple life,--its dances, its songs, and the games with the laughing boys and girls on the common! And the good people were very kind to the orphan that dwelt with Colonel Clark, the drummer boy of his regiment.
But winter brought forebodings.When the garden patches grew bare and brown, and the bleak winds from across the Mississippi swept over the common, untoward tidings came like water dripping from a roof, bit by bit.
And day by day Colonel Clark looked graver.The messengers he had sent to Vincennes came not back, and the coureurs and traders from time to time brought rumors of a British force gathering like a thundercloud in the northeast.Monsieur Vigo himself, who had gone to Vincennes on his own business, did not return.As for the inhabitants, some of them who had once bowed to us with a smile now passed with faces averted.
The cold set the miry roads like cement, in ruts and ridges.A flurry of snow came and powdered the roofs even as the French loaves are powdered.
It was January.There was Colonel Clark on a runt of an Indian pony; Tom McChesney on another, riding ahead, several French gentlemen seated on stools in a two-wheeled cart, and myself.We were going to Cahokia, and it was very cold, and when the tireless wheels bumped from ridge to gully, the gentlemen grabbed each other as they slid about, and laughed.
All at once the merriment ceased, and looking forward we saw that Tom had leaped from his saddle and was bending over something in the snow.These chanced to be the footprints of some twenty men.
The immediate result of this alarming discovery was that Tom went on express to warn Captain Bowman, and the rest of us returned to a painful scene at Kaskaskia.
We reached the village, the French gentlemen leaped down from their stools in the cart, and in ten minutes the streets were filled with frenzied, hooded figures.Hamilton, called the Hair Buyer, was upon them with no less than six hundred, and he would hang them to their own gateposts for listening to the Long Knives.These were but a handful after all was said.There was Father Gibault, for example.Father Gibault would doubtless be exposed to the crows in the belfry of his own church because he had busied himself at Vincennes and with other matters.
Father Gibault was human, and therefore lovable.He bade his parishioners a hasty and tearful farewell, and he made a cold and painful journey to the territories of his Spanish Majesty across the Mississippi.
Father Gibault looked back, and against the gray of the winter's twilight there were flames like red maple leaves.
In the fort the men stood to their guns, their faces flushed with staring at the burning houses.Only a few were burned,--enough to give no cover for Hamilton and his six hundred if they came.
But they did not come.The faithful Bowman and his men arrived instead, with the news that there had been only a roving party of forty, and these were now in full retreat.
Father Gibault came back.But where was Hamilton?
This was the disquieting thing.
One bitter day, when the sun smiled mockingly on the powdered common, a horseman was perceived on the Fort Chartres road.It was Monsieur Vigo returning from Vincennes, but he had been first to St.Louis by reason of the value he set upon his head.Yes, Monsieur Vigo had been to Vincennes, remaining a little longer than he expected, the guest of Governor Hamilton.So Governor Hamilton had recaptured that place! Monsieur Vigo was no spy, hence he had gone first to St.Louis.
Governor Hamilton was at Vincennes with much of King George's gold, and many supplies, and certain Indians who had not been at the council.Eight hundred in all, said Monsieur Vigo, using his fingers.And it was Governor Hamilton's design to march upon Kaskaskia and Cahokia and sweep over Kentucky; nay, he had already sent certain emissaries to McGillivray and his Creeks and the Southern Indians with presents, and these were to press forward on their side.The Governor could do nothing now, but would move as soon as the rigors of winter had somewhat relented.Monsieur Vigo shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.He loved les Americains.What would Monsieur le Colonel do now ?
Monsieur le Colonel was grave, but this was his usual manner.He did not tear his hair, but the ways of the Long Knives were past understanding.He asked many questions.How was it with the garrison at Vincennes?
Monsieur Vigo was exact, as a business man should be.
They were now reduced to eighty men, and five hundred savages had gone out to ravage.There was no chance, then, of Hamilton moving at present? Monsieur Vigo threw up his hands.Never had he made such a trip, and he had been forced to come back by a northern route.
The Wabash was as the Great Lakes, and the forests grew out of the water.A fox could not go to Vincennes in this weather.A fish? Monsieur Vigo laughed heartily.Yes, a fish might.
``Then,'' said Colonel Clark, ``we will be fish.''
Monsieur Vigo stared, and passed his hand from his forehead backwards over his long hair.I leaned forward in my corner by the hickory fire.
``Then we will be fish,'' said Colonel Clark.``Better that than food for the crows.For, if we stay here, we shall be caught like bears in a trap, and Kentucky will be at Hamilton's mercy.''