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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 19:53:30 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 19:53:30 -0700 |
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diff --git a/30298-h/30298-h.htm b/30298-h/30298-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..91fbe07 --- /dev/null +++ b/30298-h/30298-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10949 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Magnificent Adventure, by Emerson Hough. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h2,h3,h4,h5 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + td {vertical-align: bottom;} + + hr.tiny {width: 15%; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em;} + hr.large {width: 65%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + hr.medium {width: 45%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + hr.largest {width: 100%; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em;} + + div.centered {text-align:center;} /*work around for IE centering with CSS problem part 1 */ + div.centered table {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; text-align:left;} /* work around for IE problem part 2 */ + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + + .bbox {border: double;} + .bbox2 {border: none;} + .centerbox {width: 30em; /* heading box */ + margin: 0 auto; + text-align: center;} + .centerbox2 {width: 25em; /* heading box */ + margin: 0 auto; + text-align: center; + padding-left: 0.5em; padding-right: 0.5em; padding-bottom: 1em;} + + .double {display: block; /* fake hr for double rules */ + width: 100%; + height: 3px; + line-height: 3px; + color: black; + margin: 10px auto 10px auto; + padding: 0; + border-top: 1px solid black; + border-bottom: 1px solid black; } + .double2 {display: block; /* fake hr for double rules */ + width: 100%; + height: 3px; + line-height: 3px; + color: black; + margin: 10px auto 10px auto; + padding: 0; + border-top: 2px solid black; + border-bottom: 1px solid black; } + .double3 {display: block; /* fake hr for double rules */ + width: 100%; + height: 3px; + line-height: 3px; + color: black; + margin: 10px auto 10px auto; + padding: 0; + border-top: 1px solid black; + border-bottom: 2px solid black; } + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + .n {text-indent: 0%;} + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + .left1 {margin-left: 20em;} + .left3 {margin-left: 22em;} + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + .jpg {border: solid 2px black; padding: 0.15em;} + .ispace {margin-top: 2em;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30298 ***</div> + +<div class="centerbox bbox"><h2>THE<br /> +MAGNIFICENT<br /> +ADVENTURE</h2> + +<p class="center"><i>Being the Story of the World’s<br /> +Greatest Exploration and the<br /> +Romance of a Very Gallant<br /> +Gentleman.</i></p> + +<h3>A NOVEL</h3> + +<h4>BY</h4> + +<h3>EMERSON HOUGH</h3> + +<p class="center">AUTHOR OF</p> + +<h4>THE COVERED WAGON,<br /> +NORTH OF 36, ETC.</h4> + +<h5>ILLUSTRATED BY</h5> + +<h4>ARTHUR I. KELLER</h4> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 75px;"> +<img src="images/ititle.jpg" width="75" height="74" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<h5>NEW YORK</h5> + +<h4>GROSSET & DUNLAP</h4> + +<h5>PUBLISHERS</h5></div> + +<p class="center">Made in the United States of America</p> + +<hr class="large" /> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1916, by</span><br /> +EMERSON HOUGH</p> + +<hr class="tiny" /> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1916, by The Frank A. Munsey Company</span></p> + +<p class="center">Printed in the United States of America</p> + +<hr class="large" /> + +<p><a name="Frontispiece" id="Frontispiece"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/i003.jpg" width="400" height="500" alt="“‘Him Ro’shones,’ replied the girl”" title="" /> +<span class="caption">“‘Him Ro’shones,’ replied the girl” +PAGE <a href="#Page_219">219</a></span> +</div><p>]</p> + +<hr class="large" /> + +<h4>TO</h4> + +<h3>ROBERT H. DAVIS</h3> + +<h4>GOOD FRIEND</h4> + +<h4>INVALUABLE COLLABORATOR</h4> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> +<div class="centered"> +<table border="0" width="70%" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="1" summary="CONTENTS"> + +<tr><td colspan="3" align="center">PART I</td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">CHAPTER</td> +<td align="left"> </td> +<td align="right">PAGE</td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">I.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Mother and Son</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#THE">3</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">II.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Meriwether and Theodosia</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">15</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">III.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Mr. Burr and Mr. Merry</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">30</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">IV.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">President and Secretary</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">36</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">V.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Pell-Mell and Some Consequences</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">47</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">VI.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Great Conspiracy</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">71</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">VII.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Colonel Burr and His Daughter</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">86</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">VIII.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Parting</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">94</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">IX.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Mr. Thomas Jefferson</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">105</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">X.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Threshold of the West</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">117</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XI.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Taming of Patrick Gass</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">128</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XII.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Captain William Clark</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">137</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XIII.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Under Three Flags</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">143</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XIV.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Rent in the Armor</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">153</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="3" align="center">PART II</td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">I.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Under One Flag</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Second_CHAPTER_I">167</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">II.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Mysterious Letter</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Second_CHAPTER_II">182</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">III.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Day’s Work</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Second_CHAPTER_III">191</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">IV.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Crossroads of the West</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Second_CHAPTER_IV">199</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">V.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Appeal</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Second_CHAPTER_V">208</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">VI.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Which Way?</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Second_CHAPTER_VI">218</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">VII.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Mountains</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Second_CHAPTER_VII">230</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">VIII.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Trail’s End</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Second_CHAPTER_VIII">241</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">IX.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Summons</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Second_CHAPTER_IX">250</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">X.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Abyss</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Second_CHAPTER_X">256</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XI.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Bee</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Second_CHAPTER_XI">272</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XII.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">What Voice Had Called?</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Second_CHAPTER_XII">280</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XIII.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The News</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Second_CHAPTER_XIII">292</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XIV.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Guests of a Nation</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Second_CHAPTER_XIV">300</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XV.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Mr. Jefferson’s Advice</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Second_CHAPTER_XV">308</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XVI.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Quality of Mercy</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Second_CHAPTER_XVI">316</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XVII.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Friends</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Second_CHAPTER_XVII">328</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XVIII.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Wilderness</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Second_CHAPTER_XVIII">336</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XIX.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Down to the Sea</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Second_CHAPTER_XIX">351</a></td></tr> + +</table></div> + +<hr class="large" /> + +<h2> +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> +<div class="centered"> +<table border="0" width="70%" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="1" summary="ILLUSTRATIONS"> + +<tr> +<td align="left">“‘Him Ro’shones,’ replied the girl”</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Frontispiece"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2" align="right"><small>FACING PAGE</small></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">“‘Mistah Thomas Jeffahson!’ was his sole announcement”</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Illo1">50</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">“‘Oh, Theo, what have I done?’”</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Illo2">162</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">“Her face indeed!”</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Illo3">252</a></td></tr> + +</table></div> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="THE" id="THE"></a>THE<br /> +MAGNIFICENT ADVENTURE</h2> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>MOTHER AND SON</h3> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">A</span> woman, tall, somewhat angular, dark of hair and eye, strong of +features—a woman now approaching middle age—sat looking out over the +long, tree-clad slopes that ran down from the gallery front of the +mansion house to the gate at the distant roadway. She had sat thus for +some moments, many moments, her gaze intently fixed, as though waiting +for something—something or someone that she did not now see, but +expected soon to see.</p> + +<p>It was late afternoon of a day so beautiful that not even old +Albemarle, beauty spot of Virginia, ever produced one more +beautiful—not in the hundred years preceding that day, nor in the +century since then. For this was more than a hundred years ago; and +what is now an ancient land was then a half opened region, settled +only here and there by the great plantations of the well-to-do. The +house that lay at the summit of the long and gentle slope, flanked by +its wide galleries—its flung doors opening it from front to rear to +the gaze as one approached—had all the rude comfort and assuredness +usual with the gentry of that time and place.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span></p><p>It was the privilege, and the habit, of the Widow Lewis to sit idly +when she liked, but her attitude now was not that of idleness. +Intentness, reposeful acceptance of life, rather, showed in her +motionless, long-sustained position. She was patient, as women are; +but her strong pose, its freedom from material support, her restrained +power to do or to endure, gave her the look of owning something more +than resignation, something more than patience. A strong figure of a +woman, one would have said had one seen her, sitting on the gallery of +her old home a hundred and twenty-four years ago.</p> + +<p>The Widow Lewis stared straight down at the gate, a quarter of a mile +away, with yearning in her gaze. But as so often happens, what she +awaited did not appear at the time and place she herself had set. +There fell at the western end of the gallery a shadow—a tall shadow, +but she did not see it. She did not hear the footfall, not stealthy, +but quite silent, with which the tall owner of the shadow came toward +her from the gallery end.</p> + +<p>It was a young man, or rather boy, no more than eighteen years of age, +who stood now and gazed at her after his silent approach, so like that +of an Indian savage. Half savage himself he seemed now, as he stood, +clad in the buckskin garments of the chase, then not unusual in the +Virginian borderlands among settlers and hunters, and not held <i>outré</i> +among a people so often called to the chase or to war.</p> + +<p>His tunic was of dressed deer hide, his well-fitting leggings also of +that material. His feet were covered <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>with moccasins, although his hat +and the neat scarf at his neck were those of a gentleman. He was a +practical youth, one would have said, for no ornament of any sort was +to be seen upon his garb. In his hand he carried a long rifle of the +sort then used thereabout. At his belt swung the hide of a raccoon, +the bodies of a few squirrels.</p> + +<p>Had you been a close observer, you would have found each squirrel shot +fair through the head. Indeed, a look into the gray eye of the +silent-paced youth would have assured you in advance of his skill with +his weapons—you would have known that to be natural with him.</p> + +<p>You would not soon have found his like, even in that land of tall +hunting men. He was a grand young being as he stood there, straight +and clean-limbed; hard-bitten of muscle, albeit so young; powerful and +graceful in his stride. The beauty of youth was his, and of a strong +heredity—that you might have seen.</p> + +<p>The years of youth were his, yes; but the lightness of youth did not +rest on his brow. While he was not yet eighteen, the gravity of +manhood was his.</p> + +<p>He did not smile now, as he saw his mother sitting there absorbed, +gazing out for his return, and not seeing him now that he had +returned. Instead, he stepped forward, and quietly laid a hand upon +her shoulder, not with any attempt to surprise or startle her, but as +if he knew that she would accept it as the announcement of his +presence.</p> + +<p>He was right. The strong figure in the chair did not start away. No +exclamation came from the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span>straight mouth of the face now turned +toward him. Evidently the nerves of these two were not of the sort +readily stampeded.</p> + +<p>The young man’s mother at first did not speak to him. She only reached +up her own hand to take that which lay upon her shoulder. They +remained thus for a moment, until at last the youth stepped back to +lean his rifle against the wall.</p> + +<p>“I am late, mother,” said he at length, as he turned and, seating +himself at her feet, threw his arm across her lap—himself but boy +again now, and not the hunter and the man.</p> + +<p>She stroked his dark hair, not foolishly fond, but with a sort of +stern maternal care, smoothing it back in place where it belonged, +straightening out the riot it had assumed. It made a mane above his +forehead and reached down his neck to his shoulders, so heavy that +where its dark mass was lifted it showed the skin of his neck white +beneath.</p> + +<p>“You are late, yes.”</p> + +<p>“And you waited—so long?”</p> + +<p>“I am always waiting for you, Merne,” said she. She used the +Elizabethan vowel, as one should pronounce “bird,” with no sound of +“u”—“Mairne,” the name sounded as she spoke it. And her voice was +full and rich and strong, as was her son’s; musically strong.</p> + +<p>“I am always waiting for you, Merne,” said she. “But I long ago +learned not to expect anything else of you.” She spoke with not the +least reproach in her tone. “No, I only knew that you would come <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span>back +in time, because you told me that you would.”</p> + +<p>“And you did not fear for me, then—gone overnight in the woods?” He +half smiled at that thought himself.</p> + +<p>“You know I would not. I know you, what you are—born woodsman. No, I +trust you to care for yourself in any wild country, my son, and to +come back. And then—to go back again into the forest. When will it +be, my son? Tomorrow? In two days, or four, or six? Sometime you will +go to the wilderness again. It draws you, does it not?”</p> + +<p>She turned her head slightly toward the west, where lay the forest +from which the boy had but now emerged. He did not smile, did not +deprecate. He was singularly mature in his actions, though but +eighteen years of age.</p> + +<p>“I did not desert my duty, mother,” said he at length.</p> + +<p>“Oh, no, you would not do that, Merne!” returned the widow.</p> + +<p>“Please, mother,” said he suddenly, “I want you to call me by my full +name—that of your people. Am I not Meriwether, too?”</p> + +<p>The hand on his forehead ceased its gentle movement, fell to its +owner’s lap. A sigh passed his mother’s set lips.</p> + +<p>“Yes, my son, Meriwether,” said she. “This is the last journey! I have +lost you, then, it seems? You do not wish to be my boy any longer? You +are a man altogether, then?”</p> + +<p>“I am Meriwether Lewis, mother,” said he gravely, and no more.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p><p>“Yes!” She spoke absently, musingly. “Yes, you always were!”</p> + +<p>“I went westward, clear across the Ragged Mountains,” said the youth. +“These”—and he pointed with contempt to the small trophies at his +belt—“will do for the darkies at the stables. I put yon old ringtail +up a tree last night, on my way home, and thought it was as well to +wait till dawn, till I could see the rifle-sights; and afterward—the +woods were beautiful today. As to the trails, even if there is no +trail, I know the way back home—you know that, mother.”</p> + +<p>“I know that, my son, yes. You were born for the forest. I fear I +shall not hold you long on this quiet farm.”</p> + +<p>“All in time, mother! I am to stay here with you until I am fitted to +go higher. You know what Mr. Jefferson has said to me. I am for +Washington, mother, one of these days—for I hold it sure that Mr. +Jefferson will go there in some still higher place. He was my father’s +friend, and is ours still.”</p> + +<p>“It may be that you will go to Washington, my son,” said his mother; +“I do not know. But will you stay there? The forest will call to you +all your life—all your life! Do I not know you, then? Can I not see +your life—all your life—as plainly as if it were written? Do I not +know—your mother? Why should not your mother know?”</p> + +<p>He looked around at her rather gravely once again, unsmilingly, for he +rarely smiled.</p> + +<p>“How do you know, mother? What do you know? Tell me—about myself! +Then I will tell you also. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span>We shall see how we agree as to what I am +and what I ought to do!”</p> + +<p>“My son, it is no question of what you ought to do, for that blends +too closely in fate with what you surely will do—must do—because it +was written for you. Yonder forest will always call to you.” She +turned now toward the sun, sinking across the red-leaved forest lands. +“The wilderness is your home. You will go out into it and +return—often; and then at last you will go and not come back +again—not to me—not to anyone will you come back.”</p> + +<p>The youth did not move as she sat, her hands on his head. Her voice +went on, even and steady.</p> + +<p>“You are old, Meriwether Lewis! It is time, now. You are a man. You +<i>always</i> were a man! You were born old. You never have been a boy, and +never can be one. You never were a child, but always a man. When you +were a baby, you did not smile; when you were a boy, you always had +your way. My boy, a long time ago I ceased to oppose that will of +yours—I knew that it was useless. But, ah, how I have loved that will +when I felt it was behind your promise! I knew you would do what you +had set for yourself to do. I knew you would come back with deeds in +your hand, my boy—gained through that will which never would bend for +me or for anyone else in the world!”</p> + +<p>He remained motionless, apparently unaffected, as his mother went on.</p> + +<p>“You were always old, always grown up, always resolved, always your +own master—always Meriwether Lewis. When you were born, you were not +a child. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>When the old nurse brought you to me—I can see her black +face grinning now—she carried you held by the feet instead of lying +on her arm. You <i>stood</i>, you were so strong! Your hair was dark and +full even then. You were old! In two weeks you turned where you heard +a sound—you recognized sight and sound together, as no child usually +does for months. You were beautiful, my boy, so strong, so +straight—ah, yes!—but you never were a boy at all. When you should +have been a baby, you did not weep and you did not smile. I never knew +you to do so. From the first, you always were a man.”</p> + +<p>She paused, but still he did not speak.</p> + +<p>“That was well enough, for later we were left alone. But your father +was in you. Do I not know well enough where you got that settled +melancholy of yours, that despondency, that somber grief—call it what +you like—that marked him all his life, and even in his death? That +came from him, your father. I thank God I did not give you that, +knowing what life must hold for you in suffering! He suffered, yes, +but not as you will. And you must—you must, my son. Beyond all other +men, you will suffer!”</p> + +<p>“You were better named Cassandra, mother!” Yet the young man scarce +smiled even now.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I am a prophetess, all too sooth a prophetess, my son. I see +ahead as only a mother can see—perhaps as only one of the old +Highland blood can see. I am soothseer and soothsayer, because you are +blood of my blood, bone of my bone, and I cannot help but know. I +cannot help but know what that melancholy <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span>and that resolution, all +these combined, must spell for you. You know how his heart was racked +at times?”</p> + +<p>The boy nodded now.</p> + +<p>“Then know how your own must be racked in turn!” said she. “My son, it +is no ordinary fate that will be yours. You will go forward at all +costs; you will keep your word bright as the knife in your belt—you +will drive yourself. What that means to you in agony—what that means +when your will is set against the unalterable and the inevitable—I +wish—oh, I wish I could not see it! But I do see it, now, all laid +out before me—all, all! Oh, Merne—may I not call you Merne once more +before I let you go?”</p> + +<p>She let her hands fall from his head to his shoulders as she gazed +steadily out beyond him, as if looking into his future; but she +herself sat, her strong face composed. She might, indeed, have been a +prophetess of old.</p> + +<p>“Tragedy is yours, my son,” said she, slowly, “not happiness. No woman +will ever come and lie in your arms happy and content.”</p> + +<p>“Mother!”</p> + +<p>He half flung off her hands, but she laid them again more firmly on +his shoulders, and went on speaking, as if half in reverie, half in +trance, looking down the long slope of green and gold as if it showed +the vista of the years.</p> + +<p>“You will love, my boy, but with your nature how could love mean +happiness to you? Love? No man could love more terribly. You will be +intent, resolved, but the firmness of your will means that much more +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span>suffering for you. You will suffer, my boy—I see that for you, my +first-born boy! You will love—why should you not, a man fit to love +and be loved by any woman? But that love, the stronger it grows, will +but burn you the deeper. You will struggle through on your own path; +but happiness does not lie at the end of that path for you. You will +succeed, yes—you could not fail; but always the load on your +shoulders will grow heavier and heavier. You will carry it alone, +until at last it will be too much for you. Your strong heart will +break. You will lie down and die. Such a fate for you, Merne, my +boy—such a man as you will be!”</p> + +<p>She sighed, shivered, and looked about her, startled, as if she had +spoken aloud in some dream.</p> + +<p>“Well, then, go on!” she said, and withdrew her hands from his +shoulders. The faces of both were now gazing straight on over the +gold-flecked slope before them. “Go on, you are a man. I know you will +not turn back from what you undertake. You will not change, you will +not turn—because you cannot. You were born to earn and not to own; to +find, but not to possess. But as you have lived, so you will die.”</p> + +<p>“You give me no long shrift, mother?” said the youth, with a twinkle +in his eye.</p> + +<p>“How can I? I can only tell you what is in the book of life. Do I not +know? A mother always loves her son; so it takes all her courage to +face what she knows will be his lot. Any mother can read her son’s +future—if she dares to read it. She knows—she knows!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p><p>There was a long silence; then the widow continued.</p> + +<p>“Listen, Merne,” she said. “You call me a prophetess of evil. I am not +that. Do you think I speak only in despair, my boy? No, there is +something larger than mere happiness. Listen, and believe me, for now +I could not fail to know. I tell you that your great desire, the great +wish of your life, shall be yours! You never will relinquish it, you +always will possess it, and at last it will be yours.”</p> + +<p>Again silence fell between them before she went on, her hand again +resting on her son’s dark hair.</p> + +<p>“Your great desire will cost me my son. Be it so! We breed men for the +world, we women, and we give them up. Out of the agony of our hearts, +we do and must always give them up. That is the price I must pay. But +I give you up to the great hope, the great thing of your life. Should +I complain? Am I not your mother, and therefore a woman? And should a +woman complain? But, Oh, Merne, Merne, my son, my boy!”</p> + +<p>She drew his head back, so that she could see deep into his eyes. Her +dark brows half frowning, she gazed down upon him, not so much in +tenderness as in intentness. For the first time in many months—for +the last time in his life—she kissed him on the forehead; and then +she let him go.</p> + +<p>He rose now, and, silently as he had come, passed around the end of +the wide gallery.</p> + +<p>Her gaze did not follow him. She sat still looking down the +golden-green slope where the leaves were dropping silently. She sat, +her chin in her hand, her <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>elbows upon her knees, facing that future, +somber but splendid, to which she had devoted her son, and which in +later years he so singularly fulfilled.</p> + +<p>That was the time when the mother of Meriwether Lewis gave him to his +fate—his fate, so closely linked with yours and mine.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>MERIWETHER AND THEODOSIA</h3> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">S</span>oft is the sun in the summer season at Washington, softer at times +than any old Dan Chaucer ever knew; but again so ardent that anyone +who would ride abroad would best do so in the early morning. This is +true today, and it was true when the capital city lay in the heart of +a sweeping forest at the edge of a yet unconquered morass.</p> + +<p>The young man who now rode into this forest, leaving behind him the +open streets of the straggling city—then but beginning to lighten +under the rays of the morning sun—was one who evidently knew his +Washington. He knew his own mind as well, for he rode steadily, as if +with some definite purpose, to some definite point, looking between +his horse’s ears.</p> + +<p>Sitting as erect and as easily as any cavalier of the world’s best, he +was tall in his saddle seat, his legs were long and straight. His +boots were neatly varnished, his coat well cut, his gloves of good +pattern for that time. His hat swept over a mass of dark hair, which +fell deep in its loose cue upon his neck. His cravat was immaculate +and well tied. He was a good figure of a man, a fine example of the +young manhood <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span>of America as he rode, his light, firm hand half +unconsciously curbing the antics of the splendid animal beneath him—a +horse deep bay in color, high-mettled, a mount fit for a monarch—or +for a young gentleman of Virginia a little more than one hundred years +ago.</p> + +<p>If it was not the horse of a monarch the young man bestrode, none the +less it was the horse of one who insisted that his stables should be +as good as those of any king—none less, if you please, than Mr. +Thomas Jefferson, then President of the United States of America.</p> + +<p>This particular animal was none other than Arcturus, Mr. Jefferson’s +favorite saddler. It was the duty as well as the delight of Mr. +Jefferson’s private secretary to give Arcturus and his stable-mate, +Wildair, their exercise on alternate days. On this summer morning +Arcturus was enjoying his turn beneath his rider—who forsooth was +more often in the saddle than Mr. Jefferson himself.</p> + +<p>Horse and rider made a picture in perfect keeping as they fared on +toward the little-used forest road which led out Rock Creek way. +Yonder, a few miles distant, was a stone mill owned by an old German, +who sometimes would offer a cup of coffee to an early horseman. +Perhaps this rider knew the way from earlier wanderings thither on +other summer mornings.</p> + +<p>Arcturus curveted along and tossed his head, mincing daintily, and +making all manner of pretense at being dangerous, with sudden gusts of +speed and shakings of his head and blowing out of his nostrils—though +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>all the time the noble bay was as gentle as a dog. Whether or not he +really were dangerous would have made small difference to the young +man who bestrode him, for his seat was that of the born horseman.</p> + +<p>They advanced comfortably enough, the rider seemingly less alive to +the joys of the morning than was the animal beneath him. The young +man’s face was grave, his mouth unsmiling—a mouth of half Indian +lines, broken in its down-sweeping curve merely by the point of a bow +which spoke of gentleness as well as strength. His head was that of +the new man, the American, the new man of a new world, young and +strong, a continent that had lain fallow from the birth of time.</p> + +<p>What burdened the mind of a man like this, of years which should have +left him yet in full attunement with the morning of life and with the +dawn of a country? Why should he pay so little heed to the playful +advances of Arcturus, inviting him for a run along the shady road?</p> + +<p>Arcturus could not tell. He could but prance insinuatingly, his ears +forward, his head tossed, his eye now and again turned about, +inquiring.</p> + +<p>But though the young man, moody and abstracted, still looked on ahead, +some of his senses seemed yet on guard. His head turned at the +slightest sound of the forest life that came to him. If a twig +cracked, he heard it. If a green nut cut by some early squirrel +clattered softly on the leaves, that was not lost to him.</p> + +<p>A bevy of partridges, feeding at dawn along the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span>edge of the forest +path, whirled up in his horse’s face; and though he held the startled +animal close, he followed the flight of the birds with the trained eye +of the fowler, and marked well where they pitched again. He did these +things unconsciously as one well used to the woods, even though his +eye turned again straight down the road and the look of intentness, of +sadness, almost of melancholy, once more settled upon his features.</p> + +<p>He advanced into the wood until all sight of the city was quite cut +off from him, until the light grew yet dimmer along the forest road, +in places almost half covered with a leafy canopy, until at length he +came to the valley of the little stream. He followed the trail as it +rambled along the bank toward the mill, through scenes apparently +familiar to him.</p> + +<p>Abstracted as he was he must have been alert, alive, for now, +suddenly, he broke his moody reverie at some sound which he heard on +ahead. He reined in for just an instant, then loosed the bridle and +leaned forward. The horse under him sprang forward in giant strides.</p> + +<p>It was the sound of a voice that the young cavalier had heard—the +voice of a woman—apparently a woman in some distress. What cavalier +at any time of the world has not instinctively leaped forward at such +sound? In less than half a moment the rider was around the turn of the +leafy trail.</p> + +<p>She was there, the woman who had cried out, herself mounted, and now +upon the point of trying conclusions with her mount. Whether +dissatisfaction with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>the latter or some fear of her own had caused +her to cry out might have been less certain, had it not been sure that +her eye was at the moment fastened, not upon the fractious steed, but +upon the cause of his unwonted misbehavior.</p> + +<p>The keen eye of the young man looked with hers, and found the +reason for the sudden scene. A serpent, some feet in length—one +of the mottled, harmless species sometimes locally called the +blow-snake—obviously had come out into the morning sun to warm +himself, and his yellow body, lying loose and uncoiled, had been +invisible to horse and rider until they were almost upon it. Then, +naturally, the serpent had moved his head, and both horse and rider +had seen him, to the dismay of both.</p> + +<p>This the young man saw and understood in a second, even as he spurred +forward alongside the plunging animal. His firm hand on the bridle +brought both horses back to their haunches. An instant later both had +control of their mounts again, and had set them down to their paces in +workmanlike fashion.</p> + +<p>There was color in the young woman’s face, but it was the color of +courage, of resolution. There was breeding in every line of her. Class +and lineage marked her as she sat easily, her supple young body +accommodating itself handsomely to the restrained restiveness of the +steed beneath her. She rode with perfect confidence, as an experienced +horsewoman, and was well turned out in a close habit, neither old nor +new.</p> + +<p>Her dark hair—cut rather squarely across her forehead <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span>after an +individual fashion of her own—was surmounted by a slashed hat, +decorated with a wide-flung plume of smoky color, caught with a jewel +at the side. Both jewel and plume had come, no doubt, in some ship +from across seas. Her hands were small, and gloved as well as might be +at that day of the world. There was small ornament about her; nor did +this young woman need ornament beyond the color of her cheek and hair +and eye, and perhaps the touch of a bold ribbon at her throat, which +held a white collar closer to a neck almost as white.</p> + +<p>An aristocrat, you must have called her, had you seen her in any +chance company. And had you been a young man such as this, and had you +met her alone, in some sort of agitation, and had consent been given +you—or had you taken consent—surely you would have been loath to +part company with one so fair, and would have ridden on with her as he +did now.</p> + +<p>But at first they did not speak. A quick, startled look came into the +face of the young woman. A deeper shade glowed upon the cheek of the +cavalier, reddening under the skin—a flush which shamed him, but +which he could not master. He only kept his eyes straight between his +horse’s ears as he rode—after he had raised his hat and bowed at the +close of the episode.</p> + +<p>“I am to thank Captain Lewis once more,” began the young woman, in a +voice vibrant and clear—the sweetest, kindest voice in the world. “It +is good fortune that you rode abroad so early this morning. You always +come at need!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p><p>He turned upon her, mute for a time, yet looking full into her face. +It was sadness, not boldness, not any gay challenge, that marked his +own.</p> + +<p>“Can you then call it good fortune?” His own voice was low, +suppressed.</p> + +<p>“Why not, then?”</p> + +<p>“You did not need me. A moment, and you would have been in command +again—there was no real need of me. Ah, you never need me!”</p> + +<p>“Yet you come. You were here, had the need been worse. And, indeed, I +was quite off my guard—I must have been thinking of something else.”</p> + +<p>“And I also.”</p> + +<p>“And there was the serpent.”</p> + +<p>“Madam, there was the serpent! And why not? Is this not Eden? I swear +it is paradise enough for me. Tell me, why is it that in the glimpses +the sages give us of paradise they no more than lift the curtain—and +let it fall again?”</p> + +<p>“Captain Meriwether Lewis is singularly gloomy this morning!”</p> + +<p>“Not more than I have been always. How brief was my little hour! Yet +for that time I knew paradise—as I do now. We should part here, +madam, now, forever. Yon serpent spelled danger for both of us.”</p> + +<p>“For both of us?”</p> + +<p>“No, forgive me! None the less, I could not help my thoughts—cannot +help them now. I ride here every morning. I saw your horse’s +hoof-marks some two miles back. Do you suppose I did not know whose +they were?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p><p>“And you followed me? Ah!”</p> + +<p>“I suppose I did, and yet I did not. If I did I knew I was riding to +my fate.”</p> + +<p>She would have spoken—her lips half parted—but what she might have +said none heard.</p> + +<p>He went on:</p> + +<p>“I have ridden here since first I saw you turn this way one morning. I +guessed this might be your haunt at dawn. I have ridden here +often—and feared each time that I might meet you. Perhaps I came this +morning in the same way, not knowing that you were near, but hoping +that you might be. You see, madam, I speak the absolute truth with +you.”</p> + +<p>“You have never spoken aught else to any human soul. That I know.”</p> + +<p>“And yet you try to evade the truth? Why deceive your heart about it, +since I have not deceived my own? I have faced it out in my own heart, +and I have, I trust, come off the victor. At some cost!”</p> + +<p>Her face was troubled. She looked aside as she replied in a voice low, +but firm:</p> + +<p>“Any woman would be glad to hear such words from Captain Lewis, and I +am glad. But—the honest wife never lived who could listen to them +often.”</p> + +<p>“I know that,” he said simply.</p> + +<p>“No!” Her voice was very low now; her eyes soft and cast down as they +fell upon a ring under her glove. “We must not meet, Captain +Meriwether Lewis. At least, we must not meet thus alone in the woods. +It might cause talk. The administration has enemies enough, as you +know—and never was a woman who <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span>did not have enemies, no matter how +clean her life has been.”</p> + +<p>“Clean as the snow, yours! I have never asked you to be aught else, +and never will. I sought you once, when I rode from Virginia to New +York—when I first had my captain’s pay, before Mr. Jefferson asked me +to join his family. Before that time I had too little to offer you; +but then, with my hopes and my ambitions, I ventured. I made that +journey to offer you my hand. I was two weeks late—you were already +wedded to Mr. Alston. Then I learned that happiness never could be +mine.... Yes, we must part! You are the only thing in life I fear. And +I fear as well for you. One wagging tongue in this hotbed of +gossip—and there is harm for you, whom all good men should wish to +shield.”</p> + +<p>As he rode, speaking thus, his were the features of a man of +tremendous emotions, a resolute man, a man of strength, of passions +not easily put down.</p> + +<p>She turned aside her own face for an instant. At last her little hand +went to him in a simple gesture of farewell. Meriwether Lewis leaned +and kissed it reverently as he rode.</p> + +<p>“Good-by!” said he. “Now we may go on for the brief space that remains +for us,” he added a moment later. “No one is likely to ride this way +this morning. Let us go on to the old mill. May I give you a cup of +coffee there?”</p> + +<p>“I trust Captain Meriwether Lewis,” she replied.</p> + +<p>They advanced silently, and presently came in sight of a little +cascade above a rocky shallowing of the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>stream. Below this, after +they had splashed through the ford, they saw the gray stone walls of +Rock Creek Mill.</p> + +<p>The miller was a plain man, and silent. Other folk, younger or older, +married or single, had come hither of a morning, and he spoke the name +of none. He welcomed these two after his fashion. Under the shade of a +great tree, which flung an arm out to the rivulet, he pulled out a +little table spread in white and departed to tell his wife of the +company. She, busy and smiling, came out presently with her best in +old china and linen and wherewith to go with both.</p> + +<p>They sat now, face to face across the little table, their horses +cropping the dewy grass near by. Lewis’s riding crop and gloves lay on +his knee. He cast his hat upon the grass. Little birds hopped about on +the ground and flitted here and there in the trees, twittering. A +mocker, trilling in sudden ecstacy of life, spread a larger melody +through all the wood.</p> + +<p>The sun drew gently up in the heavens, screened by the waving trees. +The ripple of the stream was very sweet.</p> + +<p>“Theodosia, look!” said the young man, suddenly swinging a gesture +about him. “Did I not say right? It is Eden! Ah, what a pity it is +that Eden must ever be the same—a serpent—repentance—and farewell! +Yet it was so beautiful.”</p> + +<p>“A sinless Eden, sir.”</p> + +<p>“No! I will not lie—I will not say that I do not love you more than +ever. That is my sin; so I must go away. This must be our last +meeting—I am fortunate that it came by chance today.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p><p>“Going away—where, then, my friend?”</p> + +<p>“Into the West. It always has called me. Ah, if only I had remained in +the Indian country yonder, where I belonged, and never made my ride to +New York—to learn that I had come too late! But the West still is +there—the wilderness still exists to welcome such as me!”</p> + +<p>“But you will—you will come back again?”</p> + +<p>“It is in the lap of the gods. I do not know or care. But my plans are +all arranged. Mr. Jefferson and I have agreed that it is almost time +to start. You see, Theodosia, I am now back from my schooling. You +behold in me, madam, a scientist! At least I am competent to read by +the sun and stars, can reckon longitude and latitude—as one must, to +journey into the desert yonder. If only I dared orient my soul as +well!”</p> + +<p>“You would never doubt my faith in my husband.”</p> + +<p>“No! Of course, you love your husband. I could not look at you a +second time if you did not.”</p> + +<p>“You are a good man, Meriwether Lewis!”</p> + +<p>“Do not say it! I am a man accursed of evil passions—the most unhappy +of all men. There is nothing else, I say, in all the world that I fear +but my love for you. Tell me it will not last—tell me it will +change—tell me that I shall forget! I should not believe you—but +tell me that. Does a man never forget? Success—for others; +happiness—for someone else. My mother said that was to be my fate. +What did she mean?”</p> + +<p>“She meant, Meriwether Lewis, that you were a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>great man, a great +soul! Only a man of noble soul could speak as you have spoken to me. +We women, in our souls, love something noble and good and strong. Then +we imagine someone like that. We believe, or try to believe, or say +that we believe; but always——”</p> + +<p>“And a woman may divide not love, only love of love itself?”</p> + +<p>“I shall love your future, and shall watch it always,” she replied, +coloring. “You will be a great man, and there will be a great place +for you.”</p> + +<p>“And what then?”</p> + +<p>“Do not ask what then. You ask if men never change. Alas, they do, all +too frequently! Do not deny the imperious way of nature. +Only—remember me as long as you can, Meriwether Lewis.”</p> + +<p>She spoke softly, and the color of her cheek, still rising, told of +her self-reproof.</p> + +<p>He turned suddenly at this, a wonderfully sweet smile now upon his +face.</p> + +<p>“As long as I can?”</p> + +<p>“Yes. Let your own mind run on the ambitions of a proud man, a strong +man. Ambition—power—place—these things will all be yours in the +coming years. They belong to any man of ability such as yours, and I +covet them for you. I shall pray always for your success; but success +makes men forget.”</p> + +<p>He still sat looking at her unmoved, with thoughts in his heart that +he would not have cared to let her know. She went on still, half +tremblingly:</p> + +<p>“I want to see you happy after a time—with some good woman at your +side—your children by you—in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>your own home. I want everything for +you which ought to come to any man. And yet I know how hard it is to +alter your resolve, once formed. Captain Lewis, you are a stubborn +man, a hard man!”</p> + +<p>He shook his head.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I do not seem to change,” said he simply. “I hope I shall be +able to carry my burden and to hold my trail.”</p> + +<p>“Fie! I will not have such talk on a morning like this.”</p> + +<p>Fearlessly she reached out her hand to his, which lay upon the table. +She smiled at him, but he looked down, the lean fingers of his own +hand not trembling nor responding.</p> + +<p>If she sensed the rigidity of the muscles which held his fingers +outward, at least she feared it not. If she felt the repression which +kept him silent, at least she feared it not. Her intuitions told her +at last that the danger was gone. His hand did not close on hers.</p> + +<p>She raised her cup and saluted laughingly.</p> + +<p>“A good journey, Meriwether Lewis,” said she, “and a happy return from +it! Cast away such melancholy—you will forget all this!”</p> + +<p>“I ask you not to wound me more than need be. I am hard to die. I can +carry many wounds, but they may pain me none the less.”</p> + +<p>“Forgive me, then,” she said, and once more her small hand reached out +toward him. “I would not wound you. I asked you only to remember me +as——”</p> + +<p>“As——”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p><p>“As I shall you, of course. And I remember that bright day when you +came to me—yonder in New York. You offered me all that any man can +ever offer any woman. I am proud of that! I told my husband, yes. He +never mentions your name save in seriousness and respect. I am +ambitious for you. All the Burrs are full of ambition, and I am a +Burr, as you know. How long will it be before you come back to higher +office and higher place? Will it be six months hence?”</p> + +<p>“More likely six years. If there is healing for me, the wilderness +alone must give it.”</p> + +<p>“I shall be an old woman—old and sallow from the Carolina suns. You +will have forgotten me then.”</p> + +<p>“It is enough,” said he. “You have lightened my burden for me as much +as may be—you have made the trial as easy as any can. The rest is for +me. At least I can go feeling that I have not wronged you in any way.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Meriwether Lewis,” said she quietly, “there has not been one +word or act of yours to cause you regret, or me. You have put no +secret on me that I must keep. That was like a man! I trust you will +find it easy to forget me.”</p> + +<p>He raised a hand.</p> + +<p>“I said, madam, that I am hard to die. I asked you not to wound me +overmuch. Do not talk to me of hopes or sympathy. I do not ask—I will +not have it! Only this remains to comfort me—if I had laid on my soul +the memory of one secret that I had dared to place on yours, ah, then, +how wretched would life <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>be for me forever after! That thought, it +seems to me, I could not endure.”</p> + +<p>“Go, then, my savage gentleman, and let me——”</p> + +<p>“And let you never see my face again?”</p> + +<p>She rose and stood looking at him, her own eyes wet with a sudden +moisture.</p> + +<p>“Women worth loving are so few!” she said slowly. “Clean men are so +few! How a woman could have loved you, Meriwether Lewis! How some +woman ought to love you! Yes, go now,” she concluded. “Yes, go!”</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Alston will wait with you here for a few moments,” said +Meriwether Lewis to the miller’s wife quietly. He stood with his +bridle rein across his arm. “See that she is very comfortable. She +might have a second cup of your good coffee?”</p> + +<p>He swung into his saddle, reined his horse about, turned and bowed +formally to his late <i>vis-à-vis</i>, who still remained seated at the +table. Then he was off at such speed as left Arcturus no more cause to +fret at his bridle rein.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>MR. BURR AND MR. MERRY</h3> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">T</span>he young Virginian had well-nigh made his way out over the two miles +or so of sheltered roadway, when he heard hoof beats on ahead, and +slackened his own speed. He saw two horsemen approaching, both well +mounted, coming on at a handsome gait.</p> + +<p>Of these, one was a stout and elderly man of no special shape at all, +who sat his horse with small grace, his florid face redder for his +exercise, his cheeks mottled with good living and hard riding. He was +clad in scrupulous riding costume, and seemed, indeed, a person of +some importance. The badge of some order or society showed on his +breast, and his entire air—intent as he was upon his present business +of keeping company with a skilled horseman—marked him as one +accustomed to attention from others. A servant in the costume of an +English groom rode at a short distance behind him.</p> + +<p>The second man was lighter, straight and trim of figure, with an +erectness and exactness of carriage which marked him as a soldier at +some part of his life. He was clad with extreme neatness, well booted +also, and sat his mount with the nonchalance of the trained <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>horseman. +His own garb and face showed not the slightest proof that he had been +riding hard.</p> + +<p>Indeed, he seemed one whom no condition or circumstance could deprive +of a cool immaculateness. He was a man to be marked in any +company—especially so by the peculiar brilliance of his full, dark +eye, which had a piercing, searching glint of its own; an eye such as +few men have owned, and under whose spell man or woman might easily +melt to acquiescence with the owner’s mind.</p> + +<p>He sat his horse with a certain haughtiness as well as carelessness. +His chin seemed long and firm, and his lofty forehead—indeed, his +whole air and carriage—discovered him the man of ambition that he +really was. For this was no other than Aaron Burr, Vice-President of +the United States, whose name was soon to be on the lips of all. He +had lately come to Washington with the Jefferson administration.</p> + +<p>This gentleman now reined up his horse as he caught sight of the young +man approaching. His older companion also halted. Burr raised his hat.</p> + +<p>“Ah, Captain Lewis!” he said in a voice of extraordinary sweetness, +yet of power. “You also have caught the secret of this climate, eh? +You ride in the early morning—I do not wonder. You are Virginian, and +so know the heats of Washington. I fancy you recognize Mr. Merry,” he +added, his glance turning from one to the other.</p> + +<p>The young Virginian bowed to both gentlemen.</p> + +<p>“I have persuaded his excellency the minister from Great Britain to +ride with us on one of our Washington <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>mornings. He has been good +enough to say—to say—that he enjoys it!”</p> + +<p>Burr turned a quick glance upon the heavier figure at his side, with a +half smile of badinage on his own face. Lewis bowed again, formally, +and Anthony Merry answered with equal politeness and ceremony.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said the envoy, “to be sure I recall the young man. I met him +in the anteroom at the President’s house.”</p> + +<p>Meriwether Lewis cast him a quick glance, but made no answer. He knew +well enough the slighting estimate in which everything at Washington +was held by this minister accredited to our government. Also he knew, +as he might have said, something about the diplomat’s visit at the +Executive Mansion. For thus far the minister from Great Britain to +Washington had not been able to see the President of the United +States.</p> + +<p>“And you are done your ride?” said Burr quickly, for his was a keen +nose to scent any complication. “Tell me”—he lifted his own reins now +to proceed—“you saw nothing of my daughter, Mrs. Alston? We missed +her at the house, and have feared her abduction by some bold young +Virginian, eh?”</p> + +<p>His keen eye rested fairly on the face of the younger man as he spoke. +The latter felt the challenge under the half mocking words.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he replied calmly, “I have seen Mrs. Alston. I left her but now +at the old mill, having a cup of coffee with the miller’s wife. I had +not time myself for a second, although Mrs. Alston honored me by +allowing <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>me to sit at her table for a moment. We met by accident, you +see, as we both rode, a short time ago. I overtook her when it was not +yet sunrise, or scarcely more.”</p> + +<p>“You see!” laughed Burr, as he turned to Merry. “Our young men are +early risers when it comes to pursuit of the fair. I must ride at once +and see to the welfare of my daughter. She may be weeping at losing +her escort so soon!”</p> + +<p>They all smiled in proper fashion. Lewis bowed, and, lifting his hat, +passed on. Burr, as they parted, fell for just a half-moment into +thought, his face suddenly inscrutable, as if he pondered something.</p> + +<p>“There is the ablest man I have seen in Washington,” blurted out Merry +suddenly, apropos of nothing that had been said. “He has manners, and +he rides like an Englishman.”</p> + +<p>“Say not so!” said Burr, laughing. “Better—he rides like a +Virginian!”</p> + +<p>“Very well; it is the same thing. The Virginians are but +ourselves—this country is all English yet. And I swear—Mr. Burr, may +we speak freely?—I cannot see, and I never shall see, what is the +sense in all this talk of a new democracy of the people. Now, what men +like these—like you——”</p> + +<p>“You know well enough how far I agree with you,” said Burr somberly.</p> + +<p>“’Tis an experiment, our republic, I am willing to say that boldly to +you, at least. How long it may last——”</p> + +<p>“Depends on men like you,” said Merry, suddenly <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>turning upon him as +they rode. “How long do you suppose his Majesty will endure such +slights as they put on us here day by day? My blood boils at the +indignities we have had to suffer here—cooling our heels in your +President’s halls. I call it mere presumptuousness. I cannot look upon +this country as anything but a province to be taken back again when +England is ready. And it may be, since so much turbulence and +discourtesy seem growing here, that chance will not wait long in the +coming!”</p> + +<p>“It may be, Mr. Merry,” said Aaron Burr. “My own thoughts you know too +well for need of repetition. Let us only go softly. My plans advance +as well as I could ask. I was just wondering,” he added, “whether +those two young people really were together there at the old mill—and +whether they were there for the first time.”</p> + +<p>“If not, ’twas not for the last time!” rejoined the older man. “Yonder +young man was made to fill a woman’s eye. Your daughter, Mr. Burr, +while the soul of married discreetness, and charming as any of her sex +I have ever seen, must look out for her heart. She might find it +divided into three equal parts.”</p> + +<p>“How then, Mr. Minister?”</p> + +<p>“One for her father——”</p> + +<p>Aaron Burr bowed.</p> + +<p>“Yes, her father first, as I verily believe. What then?”</p> + +<p>“The second for her husband——”</p> + +<p>“Certainly. Mr. Alston is a rising man. He has a thousand slaves on +his plantations—he is one of the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>richest of the rich South +Carolinian planters. And in politics he has a chance—more than a +chance. But after that?”</p> + +<p>“The third portion of so charming a woman’s heart might perhaps be +assigned to Captain Meriwether Lewis!”</p> + +<p>“Say you so?” laughed Burr carelessly. “Well, well this must be looked +into. Come, I must tell my son-in-law that his home is in danger of +being invaded! Far off in his Southern rice-lands, I fear he misses +his young wife sometimes. I brought her here for the sake of her own +health—she cannot thrive in such swamps. Besides, I cannot bear to +have her live away from me. She is happier with me than anywhere else. +Yes, you are right, my daughter worships me.”</p> + +<p>“Why should she not? And why should she not ride with a gallant at +sunrise for an early cup of coffee, egad?” said the older man.</p> + +<p>Burr did not answer, and they rode on.</p> + +<p>In the opposite direction there rode also the young man of whom they +spoke. And at about the time that the two came to the old mill and saw +Theodosia Alston sitting there—her face still cast down, her eyes +gazing abstractedly into her untasted cup on the little +table—Meriwether Lewis was pulling up at the iron gate which then +closed the opening in the stone wall encircling the modest official +residence of his chief and patron, President Jefferson.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>PRESIDENT AND SECRETARY</h3> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">T</span>here stood waiting near the gate one of Mr. Jefferson’s private +servants, Samson, who took the young man’s rein, grinning with his +usual familiar words of welcome as the secretary dismounted from his +horse.</p> + +<p>“You-all suttinly did warm old Arcturum a li’l bit dis mawnin’, Mistah +Mehywethah!”</p> + +<p>Samson patted the neck of the spirited animal, which tossed its head +and turned an eye to its late rider.</p> + +<p>“Yes, and see that you rub him well. Mind you, if Mr. Jefferson finds +that his whitest handkerchief shows a sweat-mark from the horse’s hide +he will cut off both your black ears for you, Samson—and very likely +your head along with them. You know your master!” The secretary smiled +kindly at the old black man.</p> + +<p>“Yassah, yassah,” grinned Samson, who no more feared Mr. Jefferson +than he did the young gentleman with whom he now spoke. “I just +lookin’ at you comin’ down that path right now, and I say to myself, +‘Dar come a ridah!’ I sho’ did, Mistah Mehywethah!”</p> + +<p>The young man answered the negro’s compliment <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>with one of his rare +smiles, then turned, with just a flick of his gloves on his breeches +legs, and marched up the walk to the door of the mansion.</p> + +<p>At the step he turned and paused, as he usually did, to take one look +out over the unfinished wing of stone still in process of erection. On +beyond, in the ragged village, he saw a few good mansion houses, many +structures devoted to business, many jumbled huts of negroes, and here +and there a public building in its early stages.</p> + +<p>The great system of boulevards and parks and circles of the new +American capital was not yet apparent from the place where Mr. Thomas +Jefferson’s young secretary now stood. But the young man perhaps saw +city and nation alike advanced in his vision; for he gazed long and +lingeringly before he turned back at last and entered the door which +the old house servant swung open for him.</p> + +<p>His hat and crop and gloves he handed to this bowed old darky, +Ben—another of Mr. Jefferson’s plantation servants whom he had +brought to Washington with him. Then—for such was the simple fashion +of the ménage, where Meriwether Lewis himself was one of the +President’s family—he stepped to the door beyond and knocked lightly, +entering as he did so.</p> + +<p>The hour was early—he himself had not breakfasted, beyond his coffee +at the mill—but, early as it was, he knew he would find at his desk +the gentleman who now turned to him.</p> + +<p>“Good morning, Mr. Jefferson,” said Meriwether Lewis, in the greeting +which he always used.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p><p>“Good morning, my son,” said the other man, gently, in his invariable +address to his secretary. “And how did Arcturus perform for you this +morning?”</p> + +<p>“Grandly, sir. He is a fine animal. I have never ridden a better.”</p> + +<p>“I envy you. I wish I could find the time I once had for my horses.” +He turned a whimsical glance at the piled desk before him. “If our new +multigraph could write a dozen letters all at once—and on as many +different themes, my son—we might perhaps get through. I vow, if I +had the money, I would have a dozen secretaries—if I could find +them!”</p> + +<p>The President rose now and stood, a tall and striking figure of a man, +over six feet in height, of clean-cut features, dark hazel eye, and +sandy, almost auburn, hair. His long, thin legs were clad in +close-fitting knee breeches of green velveteen, somewhat stained. His +high-collared coat, rolling above the loosely-tied stock which girded +his neck, was dingy brown in color, and lay in loose folds. He was one +of the worst-clad men in Washington at that hour. His waistcoat, of +red, was soiled and far from new, and his woolen stockings were +covered with no better footwear than carpet slippers, badly down at +the heel.</p> + +<p>Yet Thomas Jefferson, even clad thus, seemed the great man that he +was. Stooped though his shoulders were, his frame was so strong, his +eye so clear and keen, though contemplative, that he did not look his +years.</p> + +<p>Here was a man, all said who knew him, of whose <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>large soul so many +large deeds were demanded that he had no time for little and +inconsequent things—indeed, scarce knew that they existed. To think, +to feel, to create, to achieve—these were his absorbing tasks; and so +exigent were the demands on his great intellectual resources that he +seemed never to know the existence of a personal world.</p> + +<p>He stood careless, slipshod, at the side of a desk cluttered with a +mass of maps, papers, letters in packets or spread open. There were +writing implements here, scientific instruments of all sorts, long +sheets of specifications, canceled drafts, pages of accounts—all the +manifold impedimenta of a man in the full swing of business life. It +might have been the desk of any mediocre man; yet on that desk lay the +future of a people and the history of a world.</p> + +<p>He stood, just a trifle stooped, smiling quizzically at the young man, +yet half lovingly; for to no other being in the world did he ever give +the confidence that he accorded Meriwether Lewis.</p> + +<p>“I do not see how I could be President without you, Merne, my son,” +said he, employing the familiar term that Meriwether Lewis had not +elsewhere heard used, except by his mother. “Look what we must do +today!”</p> + +<p>The young secretary turned his own grave eye upon the cluttered desk; +but it was not dread of the redoubtable tasks awaiting him that gave +his face all the gravity it bore.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Jefferson—” he began, but paused, for he could see now standing +before him his friend, the man <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>whom, of all in the world, he loved, +and the man who believed in him and loved him.</p> + +<p>“Yes, my son?”</p> + +<p>“Your burden is grievous hard, and yet——”</p> + +<p>“Yes, my son?”</p> + +<p>But Meriwether Lewis could not speak further. He stood now, his jaws +set hard, looking out of the window.</p> + +<p>The older man came and gently laid a hand upon his shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Come, come, my son,” said he, his own voice low and of a kindness it +could assume at times. “You must not—you must not yield to this, I +say. Shake off this melancholy which so obsesses you. I know whence it +comes—your father gave it you, and you are not to blame; but you have +more than your father’s strength to aid you. And you have me, your +friend, who can understand.”</p> + +<p>Lewis only turned on him an eye so full of anguish as caused the older +man to knit his brow in deep concern.</p> + +<p>“What is it, Merne?” he demanded. “Tell me. Ah, you cannot tell? I +know! ’Tis the old melancholy, and something more, Merne, my boy. Tell +me—ah, yes, it is a woman!”</p> + +<p>The young man did not speak.</p> + +<p>“I have often told all my young friends,” said Mr. Jefferson slowly, +after a time, “that they should marry not later than twenty-three—it +is wrong to cheat the years of life—and you approach thirty now, my +son. Why linger? Listen to me. No young man may work <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>at his best and +have a woman’s face in his desk to haunt him. That will not do. We all +have handicap enough without that.”</p> + +<p>But still Meriwether could only look into the face of his superior.</p> + +<p>“I know very well, my son,” the President continued. “I know it all. +Put her out of your heart, my boy. Would you shame yourself—and +her—and me?”</p> + +<p>“No! Never would I do that, Mr. Jefferson, believe me. But now I must +beg of you—please, sir, let me go soon—let it be at once!”</p> + +<p>The older man stood looking at him for a time in silence, as he went +on hurriedly:</p> + +<p>“I must say good-by to you, best and noblest of men. Indeed, I have +said good-by to—everything.”</p> + +<p>“As you say, your case is hopeless?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, well, we have both been planning for our Western expedition these +ten years, my son; so why should we fret if matters conspire to bring +it about a trifle earlier than we planned?”</p> + +<p>“I asked you when I was a boy to send me, but you could not then.”</p> + +<p>“No, but instead I sent yonder maundering Michaux. He, Ledyard, and +all the others failed me. They never saw the great vision. There it +lies, unknown, tremendous—no man knows what—that new country. I have +had to hide from the people of this republic this secret purpose which +you and I have had of exploring the vast Western country. I have +picked you as the one man fitted for that work. I do not make +mistakes. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>You are a born woodsman and traveler—you are ready to my +hand as the instrument for this magnificent adventure. I cannot well +spare you now—but yes, you must go!”</p> + +<p>They stood there, two men who made our great adventure for +us—vision-seers, vision-owned, gazing each into the other’s eyes.</p> + +<p>“Send me now, Mr. Jefferson!” repeated Meriwether Lewis. “Send me now. +I will mend to usefulness again. I will work for you all my life, if +need be—and I want my name clear with you.”</p> + +<p>The old man laid a kindly hand upon his shoulder.</p> + +<p>“I must yield you to your destiny,” said he. “It will be a great one.” +He turned aside, a hand to his lip as he paced uncertainly. “But I +still am wondering what our friends are doing yonder in France,” said +he. “That is the question. Livingston, Monroe, and the others—what +are they doing with Napoleon Bonaparte? The news from France—but +stay,” he added. “Wait! I had forgotten. Come, we shall see about it!”</p> + +<p>With the sudden enthusiasm of a boy he caught his young aide by the +arm. They passed down the hall, out by the rear entrance and across +the White House grounds to the brick stables which then stood at the +rear.</p> + +<p>Mr. Jefferson paid no attention to the sleek animals there which +looked in greeting toward him. Instead, he passed in front of the +series of stalls, and without excuse or explanation hurriedly began to +climb the steep ladder which led to the floor above.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p><p>They stood at length in the upper apartment of the stable buildings. +It was not a mow or feed loft, but rather a bird loft, devoted to the +use of many pigeons. All about the eaves were arranged many +boxes—nesting places, apparently, although none of the birds entered +the long room, which seemed free of any occupancy.</p> + +<p>Mr. Jefferson stood for a moment, eagerly scanning the rear of the +tier of boxes. An exclamation broke from him. He hurried forward with +a sudden gesture to a little flag which stood up, like the tilt of a +fisherman on the ice, at the side of the box to which he pointed.</p> + +<p>“Done!” said he.</p> + +<p>He reached up to the box that he had indicated, pressed down a little +catch, opened the back and looked in. Again an exclamation escaped +him.</p> + +<p>He put in a hand gingerly, and, tenderly imprisoning the bird which he +found therein, drew it forth, his long fingers eagerly lifting its +wings, examining its legs.</p> + +<p>It could easily be seen that the box was arranged with a door on a +tripping-latch, so that the pigeon, on entering, would imprison +itself. It was apparent that Mr. Jefferson was depending upon the +natural homing instinct of his carrier pigeons to bring him some +message.</p> + +<p>“I told them,” said he, “to loose a half-dozen birds at once. See! +See!”</p> + +<p>He unrolled from one leg of the prisoner a little cylinder of paper +covered with tinfoil and tied firmly <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>in its place. It was the first +wireless message ever received at Washington. None since that time has +carried a greater burden. It announced a transaction in empires.</p> + +<p>Mr. Jefferson read, and spread out the paper that his aide might read:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>General Bonaparte signed May 2—Fifteen millions—Rejoice!</p></div> + +<p>In no wider phrasing than that came the news of the great Louisiana +Purchase, by virtue of which this republic—whether by chance, by +result of greed warring with greed, or through the providence of +Almighty God, who shall say?—gained the great part of that vast and +incalculably valuable realm which now reaches from the Mississippi to +the Pacific Ocean. What wealth that great empire held no man had +dreamed, nor can any dream today; for, a century later, its story is +but beginning.</p> + +<p>Century on century, that story still will be in the making. A home for +millions of the earth’s best, a hope for millions of the earth’s less +fortunate—granary of the peoples, mint of the nations, birthplace and +growing-ground of the new race of men—who could have measured that +land then—who could measure it today?</p> + +<p>And its title passed, announced in seven words, carried by a bird +wandering in the air, but bound unerringly to the ark of God’s +covenant with man—the covenant of hope and progress.</p> + +<p>Thomas Jefferson stretched out his right hand to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span>meet that of +Meriwether Lewis. Their clasp was strong and firm. The eye of each man +blazed.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Jefferson,” said Meriwether Lewis, “this is your monument!”</p> + +<p>“And yours,” was the reply. “Come, then!”</p> + +<p>He turned to the stairs, the pigeon still fondled in his arm. That +bird—a white one, with slate-blue tips to its wings—never needed to +labor again, for Mr. Jefferson kept it during its life, and long after +its death.</p> + +<p>“Come now,” he said, as he began to descend the ladder once more. “The +bird was loosed yesterday, late in the afternoon. It has done its +sixty or seventy-five miles an hour for us, counting out time lost in +the night. The ship which brought this news docked at New York +yesterday. The post stages carrying it hither cannot arrive before +tomorrow. This is news—the greatest of news that we could have. +Yesterday—this morning—we were a young and weak republic. Tomorrow +we shall be one of the powers of the world. Go, now—you have been +held in leash long enough, and the time to start has come. Tomorrow +you will go westward, to that new country which now is ours!”</p> + +<p>Neither said anything further until once again they were in the +President’s little office-room; but Thomas Jefferson’s eye now was +afire.</p> + +<p>“I count this the most important enterprise in which this country ever +was engaged,” he exclaimed, his hands clenched. “Yonder lies the +greater America—you lead an army which will make far wider conquest +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>than all our troops won in the Revolutionary War. The stake is larger +than any man may dream. I see it—you see it—in time others also will +see. Tell me, my son, tell me once more! Come what may, no matter what +power shall move you, you will be faithful in this great trust? If I +have your promise, then I shall rest assured.”</p> + +<p>Thomas Jefferson, more agitated than any man had ever seen him, +dropped half trembling into his chair, his shaggy red mane about his +forehead, his long fingers shaking.</p> + +<p>“I give you my promise, Mr. Jefferson,” said Meriwether Lewis.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>THE PELL-MELL AND SOME CONSEQUENCES</h3> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">I</span>t was late in the afternoon when the secretary to the President +looked up from the crowded desk. “Mr. Jefferson,” ventured he, “you +will pardon me——”</p> + +<p>“Yes, my son?”</p> + +<p>“It grows late. You know that today the British minister, Mr. Merry, +comes to meet the President for the first time formally—at dinner. +Señor Yrujo also—and their ladies, of course. Mr. Burr and Mr. Merry +seem already acquainted. I met them riding this morning.”</p> + +<p>“Hand and glove, then, so soon? What do you make of it? I have a guess +that those three—Burr, Merry, Yrujo—mean this administration no +special good. And yet it was I myself who kept our Spanish friend from +getting his passports back to Madrid. I did that only because of his +marriage to the daughter of my friend, Governor McKean, of +Pennsylvania. But what were you saying now?”</p> + +<p>“I thought perhaps I should go to my rooms to change for dinner. You +see that I am still in riding-clothes.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p><p>“And what of that, my son? I am in something worse!”</p> + +<p>The young man stood and looked at his chief for a moment. He realized +the scarce dignified figure that the President presented in his long +coat, his soiled waistcoat, his stained trousers, and his woolen +stockings—not to mention the unspeakable slippers, down at the heel, +into which he had thrust his feet that morning when he came into the +office.</p> + +<p>“You think I will not do?” Mr. Jefferson smiled at him frankly. “I am +not so free from wisdom, perhaps, after all. Let this British minister +see us as we are, for men and women, and not dummies for finery. +Moreover, I remember well enough how we cooled our heels there in +London, Mr. Madison and myself. They showed us little courtesy enough. +Well, they shall have no complaint here. We will treat them as well as +we do the others, as well as the electors who sent us here!”</p> + +<p>Meriwether Lewis allowed himself a smile.</p> + +<p>“Go,” added his chief. “Garb yourself as I would have you—in your +best. But there will be no precedence at table this evening—remember +that! Let them take seats pell-mell—the devil take the hindmost—a +fair field for every one, and favor to none! Seat them as nearly as +possible as they should not be seated—and leave the rest to me. All +these—indeed, all history and all the records—shall take me +precisely as I am!”</p> + +<p>An hour later Meriwether Lewis stood before his narrow mirror, well +and handsomely clad, as was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span>seeming with one of his family and his +place—a tall and superb figure of young manhood, as proper a man as +ever stood in buckled shoes in any country of the world.</p> + +<p>The guests came presently, folk of many sorts. With Mr. Jefferson as +President, the democracy of America had invaded Washington, taking +more and more liberties, and it had many representatives on hand. With +these came persons of rank of this and other lands, dignitaries, +diplomats, officials, ministers of foreign powers. Carriages with +outriders came trundling over the partially paved roads of the crude +capital city. Footmen opened doors to gentlemen and ladies in full +dress, wearing insignia of honor, displaying gems, orders, +decorations, jewels, all the brilliant costumes of the European +courts.</p> + +<p>They came up the path to the door of the mansion where, to their +amazement, they were met only by Mr. Jefferson’s bowing old darky Ben, +who ushered them in, helped them with their wraps and asked them to +make themselves at home. And only old Henry, Mr. Jefferson’s butler, +bowed them in as they passed from the simple entrance hall into the +anteroom which lay between the hall and the large dining-saloon.</p> + +<p>The numbers increased rapidly. What at first was a general gathering +became a crowd, then a mob. There was no assigned place for any, no +presentation of one stranger to another. Friends could not find +friends. Mutterings arose; crowding and jostling was not absent; here +and there an angry word might have <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>been heard. The policy of +pell-mell was not working itself out in any happy social fashion.</p> + +<p>Matters were at their worst when suddenly from his own apartments +appeared the tall and well-composed figure of Mr. Jefferson’s young +secretary, social captain of matters at the Executive Mansion, and +personal aide to the President. His quick glance caught sight of the +gathering line of carriages; a second glance estimated the plight of +those now jammed into the anteroom like so many cattle and evidently +in distress.</p> + +<p>In a distant corner of the room, crowded into some sort of refuge back +of a huge davenport, stood a small group of persons in full official +dress—a group evidently ill at ease and no longer in good humor. +Meriwether Lewis made his way thither rapidly as he might.</p> + +<p>“It is Mr. Minister Merry,” said he, “and Mme. Merry.” He bowed +deeply. “Señor and Señora Yrujo, I bring you the respects of Mr. +Jefferson. He will be with us presently.”</p> + +<p>“I had believed, sir—I understood,” began Merry explosively, “that we +were to meet here the President of the United States. Where, then, is +his suite?”</p> + +<p>“We have no suite, sir. I represent the President as his aide.”</p> + +<p>“My word!” murmured the mystified dignitary, turning to his lady, who +stood, the picture of mute anger, at his side, the very aigrets on her +ginger-colored hair trembling in her anger.</p> + +<p><a name="Illo1" id="Illo1"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i053.jpg" class="jpg ispace" width="500" height="381" alt="“‘Mistah Thomas Jeffahson!’ was his sole announcement”" title="" /> +<span class="caption">“‘Mistah Thomas Jeffahson!’ was his sole announcement”</span> +</div> + +<p>They turned once more to the Spanish minister, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>who, with his American +wife, stood at hand. There ensued such shrugs and liftings of eyebrows +as left full evidence of a discontent that none of the four attempted +to suppress.</p> + +<p>Meriwether Lewis saw and noted, but seemed not to note. Mr. Merry +suddenly remembered him now as the young man he had encountered that +morning, and turned with an attempt at greater civility.</p> + +<p>“You will understand, sir, that I came supposing I was to appear in my +official capacity. We were invited upon that basis. There was to have +been a dinner, was there not—or am I mistaken of the hour? Is it not +four in the afternoon?”</p> + +<p>“You were quite right, Mr. Minister,” said Meriwether Lewis. “You +shall, of course, be presented to the President so soon as it shall +please his convenience to join us. He has been occupied in many +duties, and begs you will excuse him.”</p> + +<p>The dignity and courtesy of the young man were not without effect. +Silence, at least, was his reward from the perturbed and indignant +group of diplomats penned behind the davenport.</p> + +<p>Matters stood thus when, at a time when scarce another soul could have +been crowded into the anteroom, old Henry flung open the folding doors +which he had closed.</p> + +<p>“Mistah Thomas Jeffahson!” was his sole announcement.</p> + +<p>There appeared in the doorway the tall, slightly stooped figure of the +President of the United States, one of the greatest men of his own or +of any day. He <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>stood, gravely unconscious of himself, tranquilly +looking out upon his gathered guests. He was still clad in the garb +which he had worn throughout the day—the same in which he had climbed +to the pigeon loft—the same in which he had labored during all these +long hours.</p> + +<p>His coat was still brown and wrinkled, hanging loosely on his long +frame. His trousers were the stained velveteens of the morning; his +waistcoat the same faded red; his hose the slack woolen pair that he +had worn throughout the day. And upon his feet—horror of horrors!—he +wore still his slippers, the same old carpet slippers, down at the +heel, which had afforded him ease as he sat at his desk.</p> + +<p>As Thomas Jefferson stood, he overtopped the men about him head and +shoulders in physical stature, as he did in every other measure of a +man.</p> + +<p>Innocent or unconscious of his own appearance, his eye seeking for +knowledge of his guests, he caught sight of the group behind the +davenport. Rapidly making his way thither, he greeted each, offering +his hand to be shaken, bowing deeply to the ladies; and so quickly +passed on, leaving them almost as much mystified as before. Only +Yrujo, the Spanish Minister, looked after him with any trace of +recognition, for at this moment Meriwether Lewis was away, among other +guests.</p> + +<p>An instant later the curtained folding doors which separated the +anteroom from the dining-saloon were thrown open. Mr. Jefferson passed +in and took his place at the head of the table, casting not a single +look <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span>toward any who were to join him there. There was no +announcement; there was no <i>pas</i>, no precedence, no reserved place for +any man, no announcement for any lady or gentleman, no servant to +escort any to a place at table!</p> + +<p>It had been worse, far worse, this extraordinary scene, had it not +been for the swiftness and tact of the young man to whom so much was +entrusted. Meriwether Lewis hastened here and there, weeding out those +who could not convince him that they were invited to dine. He +separated as best he might the socially elect from those not yet +socially arrived, until at length he stood, almost the sole barrier +against those who still crowded forward.</p> + +<p>Here he was met once more by the party from behind the davenport.</p> + +<p>“Tell me,” demanded Mr. Merry, who—seeing that no other escort +offered for her—had given his angry lady his own arm, “tell me, sir, +where is the President? To whom shall I present the greetings of his +British Majesty?”</p> + +<p>“Yonder is the President of the United States, sir,” said Meriwether +Lewis. “He with whom you shook hands is the President. He stands at +the head of his table, and you are welcome if you like. He asks you to +enter.”</p> + +<p>Merry turned to his wife, and from her to the wife of the Spanish +minister.</p> + +<p>“Impossible!” said he. “I do not understand—it cannot be! That +man—that extraordinary man in breeches and slippers yonder—it cannot +be he asks us <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span>to sit at table with him! He <i>cannot</i> be the President +of the United States!”</p> + +<p>“None the less he is, Mr. Merry!” the secretary assured him.</p> + +<p>“Good Heavens!” said the minister from Great Britain, as he passed on, +half dazed.</p> + +<p>By this time there remained but few seats, none at all toward the head +of the table or about its middle portion. Toward the end of the room, +farthest from the official host, a few chairs still stood vacant, +because they had not been sought for. Thither, with faltering +footsteps, ere even these opportunities should pass, stepped the +minister from Great Britain and the minister from Spain, their ladies +with them—none offering escort.</p> + +<p>Well disposed to smile at his chief’s audacious overturning of all +social usage, yet not unadvised of the seriousness of all this, +Meriwether Lewis handed the distinguished guests to their seats as +best he might; and then left them as best he might.</p> + +<p>At that time there were not six vacant places remaining at the long +table. No one seemed to know how many had been invited to the banquet, +or how many were expected—no one in the company seemed to know anyone +else. It was indeed a pell-mell affair.</p> + +<p>For once the American democracy was triumphant. But the leader of that +democracy, the head of the new administration, the host at this +official banquet, the President of the United States, Thomas +Jefferson, stood quietly, serenely, looking out over the long table, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span>entirely unconcerned with what he saw. If there was trouble, it was +for others, not for him.</p> + +<p>Those at table presently began to seat themselves, following the +host’s example. It was at this moment that the young captain of +affairs turned once more toward the great doors, with the intention of +closing them. Old Henry was having his own battles with the remaining +audience in the anteroom, as he now brought forward two belated +guests. Old Henry, be sure, knew them both; and—as a look at the +sudden change of his features might have told—so did Mr. Jefferson’s +aide.</p> + +<p>They advanced with dignity, these two—one a gentleman, not tall, but +elegant, exquisitely clad in full-dress costume; a man whom you would +have turned to examine a second time had you met him anywhere. Upon +his arm was a young woman, also beautifully costumed, smiling, +graceful, entirely at her ease. Many present knew the two—Aaron Burr, +Vice-President of the United States; his daughter, Theodosia Burr +Alston.</p> + +<p>Mr. Burr passed within the great doors, turned and bowed deeply to his +host, distant as he was across the crowded room. His daughter +curtsied, also deeply. Their entry was dramatic. Then they stood, a +somewhat stately picture, waiting for an instant while seemingly +deciding their future course.</p> + +<p>It was at this moment that Meriwether Lewis approached them, +beckoning. He led them toward the few seats that still remained +unoccupied, placed them near to the official visitors, whose ruffled +feathers still <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>remained unsmoothed, and then stood by them for an +instant, intending to take his departure.</p> + +<p>There was one remaining chair. It was at the side of Theodosia Alston. +She herself looked up at him eagerly, and patted it with her hand. He +seated himself at her side.</p> + +<p>Thus at last was filled the pell-mell table of Mr. Thomas Jefferson. +To this day no man knows whether all present had been invited, or +whether all invited had opportunity to be present.</p> + +<p>There were those—his enemies, men of the opposing political party, +for the most part—who spoke ill of Mr. Jefferson, and charged that he +showed hypocrisy in his pretense of democratic simplicity in official +life. Yet others, even among his friends, criticised him severely for +the affair of this afternoon—July 4, in the year of 1803. They said +that his manners were inconsistent with the dignity of the highest +official of this republic.</p> + +<p>If any of this comment injured or offended Mr. Jefferson, he never +gave a sign. He was born a gentleman as much as any, and was as fully +acquainted with good social usage as any man of his day. His life had +been spent in the best surroundings of his own country, and at the +most polished courts of the Old World. To accuse him of ignorance or +boorishness would have been absurd.</p> + +<p>The fact was that his own resourceful brain had formed a definite +plan. He wished to convey a certain rebuke—and with deadly accuracy +he did convey that rebuke. It was at no enduring cost to his own fame.</p> + +<p>If the pell-mell dinner was at first a thing inchoate, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span>awkward, +impossible, criticism halted when the actual service at table began. +The chef at the White House had been brought to this country by Mr. +Jefferson from Paris, and no better was known on this side the water.</p> + +<p>So devoted was Mr. Jefferson known to be to the French style of +cooking that no less a man than Patrick Henry, on the stump, had +accused him of having “deserted the victuals of his country.” His +table was set and served with as much elegance as any at any foreign +court. At the door of the city of Washington, even in the summer +season, there was the best market of the world. As submitted by his +<i>chef de cuisine</i>, Mr. Jefferson’s menu was of no pell-mell sort. If +we may credit it as handed down, it ran thus, in the old French of +that day:</p> + +<p class="center">Huîtres de Shinnecock, Saulce Tempête<br /> +Olives du Luc<br /> +Othon Mariné à l’Huile Vierge<br /> +Amandes et Cerneaux Salés<br /> +Pot au Feu du Roy “Henriot”<br /> +Croustade Mogador<br /> +Truite de Ruisselet, Belle Meunière<br /> +Pommes en Fines Herbes<br /> +Fricot de tendre Poulet en Coquemare, au Vieux Chanturgne<br /> +Tourte de Ris de Veau, Financière<br /> +Baron de Pré Salé aux Primeurs<br /> +Sorbet des Comtes de Champagne<br /> +Dinde Sauvage flambée devant les Sarments de Vigne,<br /> +flanquée d’Ortolans<br /> +Aspic de Foie Gras Lucullus<br /> +Salade des Nymphes à la Lamballe<br /> +Asperges Chauldes enduites de Sauce<br /> +Lombardienne<br /> +Dessert et Fruits de la Réunion<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>Fromage de Bique<br /> +Café Arabe<br /> +Larmes de Juliette</p> + +<p>Whatever the wines served at the Executive Mansion may have been at +later dates, those owned and used by President Jefferson were the best +the world produced—vintages of rarity, selected as could have been +done only by one of the nicest taste. Rumor had it that none other +than Señor Yrujo, minister from Spain, recipient of many casks of the +best vintages of his country that he might entertain with proper +dignity, had seen fit to do a bit of merchandizing on his own account, +to the end that Mr. Jefferson became the owner of certain of these +rare casks.</p> + +<p>In any event, the Spanish minister now showed no fear of the wines +which came his way. Nor, for that matter, did the minister from Great +Britain, nor the spouses of these twain. Mr. Burr, seated with their +party, himself somewhat abstemious, none the less could not refrain +from an interrogatory glance as he saw Merry halt a certain bottle or +two at his own plate.</p> + +<p>“Upon my word!” said the sturdy Briton, turning to him. “Such wine I +never have tasted! I did not expect it here—served by a host in +breeches and slippers! But never mind—it is wonderful!”</p> + +<p>“There may be many things here you have not expected, your +excellency,” said Mr. Burr.</p> + +<p>The Vice-President favored the little party at his left with one of +his brilliant smiles. He had that strange faculty, admitted even by +his enemies, of making <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>another speak freely what he wished to hear, +himself reticent the while.</p> + +<p>The face of the English dignitary clouded again.</p> + +<p>“I wish I could approve all else as I do the wine and the food; but I +cannot understand. Here we sit, after being crowded like herrings in a +box—myself, my lady here, and these others. Is this the placing his +Majesty’s minister should have at the President’s table? Is this what +we should demand here?”</p> + +<p>“The indignity is to all of us alike,” smiled Burr. “Mr. Jefferson +believes in a great human democracy. I myself regret to state that I +cannot quite go with him to the lengths he fancies.”</p> + +<p>“I shall report the entire matter to his Majesty’s government!” said +Mr. Merry, again helping himself to wine. “To be received here by a +man in his stable clothes—so to meet us when we come formally to pay +our call to this government—that is an insult! I fancy it to be a +direct and intentional one.”</p> + +<p>“Insult is small word for it,” broke in the irate Spanish minister, +still further down the table. “I certainly shall report to my own +government what has happened here—of that be very sure!”</p> + +<p>“Give me leave, sir,” continued Merry. “This republic, what is it? +What has it done?”</p> + +<p>“I ask as much,” affirmed Yrujo. “A small war with your own country, +Great Britain, sir—in which only your generosity held you back—that +is all this country can claim. In the South, my people own the mouth +of the great river—we own Florida—we own the province of Texas—all +the Southern and Western <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>lands. True, Louis XV—to save it from Great +Britain, perhaps, sir”—he bowed to the British minister—“originally +ceded Louisiana to our crown. True, also, my sovereign has ceded it +again to France. But Spain still rules the South, just as Britain +rules the middle country out beyond; and what is left? I snap my +fingers at this republic!”</p> + +<p>Señor Yrujo helped himself to a brimming glass of his own wine.</p> + +<p>“I say that Western country is ours,” he still insisted, warming to +his oration now. “Suppose, under coercion, our sovereign did cede it +to Napoleon, who claims it now? Does Spain not govern it still? Do we +not collect the revenues? Is not the whole system of law enforced +under the flag of Spain, all along the great river yonder? Possession, +exploration, discovery—those are the rights under which territories +are annexed. France has the title to that West, but we hold the land +itself—we administer it. And never shall it go from under our flag, +unless it be through the act of stronger foreign powers. Spain will +fight!”</p> + +<p>“Will Spain fight?” demanded a deep and melodious voice. It was that +of Aaron Burr who spoke now, half in query, half in challenge. “Would +Spain fight—and would Great Britain, if need were and the time came?”</p> + +<p>He spoke to men heated with wine, smarting under social indignity, men +owning a hurt personal vanity.</p> + +<p>“Our past is proof enough,” said Merry proudly.</p> + +<p>Yrujo needed no more than a shrug.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p><p>“Divide and conquer?” Burr went on, looking at them, and raising an +eyebrow in query.</p> + +<p>They nodded, both of them. Burr looked around. His daughter and +Meriwether Lewis were oblivious. He saw the young man’s eyes, somber, +deep, fixed on hers; saw her gazing in return, silent, troubled, +fascinated.</p> + +<p>One presumes that it was at this moment—at the instant when Aaron +Burr, seeing the power his daughter held over young Meriwether Lewis, +and the interest he held for her, turned to these foreign officials at +his left—at that moment, let us say, the Burr conspiracy began.</p> + +<p>“Divide that unknown country, the West, and how long would this +republic endure?” said Aaron Burr.</p> + +<p>The noise of the banquet now rose about them. Voices blended with +laughter; the wine was passing; awkwardness and restraint had given +way to good cheer. In a manner they were safe to talk.</p> + +<p>“What?” demanded Aaron Burr once more. “Could a few francs transfer +all that marvelous country from Spain to France? That were absurd. By +what possible title could that region yonder ever come to this +republic? It is still more absurd to think that. Civilization does not +leap across great river valleys. It follows them. You have said +rightly, Señor Yrujo. To my mind Great Britain has laid fair grasp +upon the upper West; and Spain holds the lower West, with which our +statesmen have interested themselves of late. By all the rights of +conquest, discovery, and use, gentlemen, Great Britain’s traders have +gained for her <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>flag all the territory which they have reached on +their Western trading routes. I go with you that far.”</p> + +<p>Merry turned upon Burr suddenly a deep and estimating eye.</p> + +<p>“I begin to see,” said he, “that you are open to conviction, Mr. +Burr.”</p> + +<p>“Not open to conviction,” said Aaron Burr, “but already convinced!”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean, Colonel Burr?” The Englishman bent toward him, +frowning in intentness.</p> + +<p>“I mean that perhaps I have something to say to you two gentlemen of +the foreign courts which will be of interest and importance to you.”</p> + +<p>“Where, then, could we meet after this is over?”</p> + +<p>The minister from Great Britain surely was not beyond close and ready +estimate of events.</p> + +<p>“At my residence, after this dinner,” rejoined Aaron Burr instantly. +His eye did not waver as it looked into the other’s, but blazed with +all the fire of his own soul. “Across the Alleghanies, along the great +river, there is a land waiting, ready for strong men. Are we such men, +gentlemen? And can we talk freely as such among ourselves?”</p> + +<p>Their conversation, carried on in ordinary tones, had not been marked +by any. Their brows, drawn sharp in sudden resolution, their glance +each to the other, made their ratification of this extraordinary +speech.</p> + +<p>They had no time for anything further at the moment. A sound came to +their ears, and they turned toward the head of the long table, where +the tall figure of the President of the United States was rising in +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span>his place. The dinner had drawn toward its close.</p> + +<p>Mr. Jefferson now stood, gravely regarding those before him, his keen +eye losing no detail of the strange scene. He knew the place of every +man and woman at that board—perhaps this was his own revenge for a +reception he once had had at London. But at last he spoke.</p> + +<p>“I have news for you all, my friends, today; news which applies not to +one man nor to one woman of this or any country more than to another, +but news which belongs to all the world.”</p> + +<p>He paused for a moment, and held up in his right hand a tiny scrap of +paper, thin, crumpled. None could guess what significance it had.</p> + +<p>“May God in His own power punish me,” said he, solemnly, “if ever I +halt or falter in what I believe to be my duty! I place no bounds to +the future of this republic—based, as I firmly believe it to be, upon +the enduring principle of the just and even rights of mankind.</p> + +<p>“Our country to the West always has inspired me with the extremest +curiosity, and animated me with the loftiest hopes. Since the year +1683 that great river, the Missouri, emptying into the Mississippi, +has been looked upon as the way to the Pacific Ocean. One hundred +years from that time—that is to say, in 1783—I myself asked one of +the ablest of our Westerners, none other than General George Rogers +Clark, to undertake a journey of exploration up that Western river. It +was not done. Three years later, when accredited to the court at +Paris, I met a Mr. Ledyard, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span>an American then abroad. I desired him to +cross Russia, Siberia and the Pacific Ocean, and then to journey +eastward over the Stony Mountains, to find, if he could, the head of +that Missouri River of which we know so little. But Ledyard failed, +for reasons best known, perhaps, to the monarch of Russia.</p> + +<p>“Later than that, and long before I had the power which now is mine to +order matters of the sort, the Boston sailor, Captain Grey, in 1792, +as you know, found the mouth of the Columbia River. The very next year +after that I engaged the scientist Michaux to explore in that +direction; but he likewise failed.</p> + +<p>“All my life I have seen what great opportunities would be ours if +once we owned that vast country yonder. As a private citizen I planned +that we should at least explore it—always it was my dream to know +more of it. It being clear to me that the future of our republic lay +not to the east, but to the west of the Alleghanies—indeed, to the +west of the Mississippi itself—never have I relinquished the ambition +that I have so long entertained. Never have I forgotten the dream +which animated me even in my younger years. I am here now to announce +to you, so that you may announce to all the world, certain news which +I have here regarding that Western region, which never was ours, but +which I always wished might be ours.”</p> + +<p>With the middle finger of his left hand the President flicked at the +mysterious bit of crumpled paper still held aloft in his right. There +was silence all down the long table.</p> + +<p>“More than a year ago I once more chose a messenger <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>into that +country,” went on Thomas Jefferson. “I chose a leader of exploration, +of discovery. I chose him because I knew I could trust in his loyalty, +in his judgment, in his courage. Well and thoroughly he has fitted +himself for that leadership.”</p> + +<p>He turned his gaze contemplatively down the long table. The gaze of +many of his guests followed his, still wonderingly, as he went on.</p> + +<p>“My leader for this expedition into the West, which I planned more +than a year ago, is here with you now. Captain Meriwether Lewis, will +you stand up for a moment? I wish to present you to these, my +friends.”</p> + +<p>With wonder, doubt, and, indeed, a certain perturbation at the +President’s unexpected summons, the young Virginian rose to his feet +and stood gazing questioningly at his chief.</p> + +<p>“I know your modesty as well as your courage, Captain Lewis,” smiled +Mr. Jefferson. “You may be seated, sir, since now we all know you.</p> + +<p>“Let me say to you others that I have had opportunity of knowing my +captain of this magnificent adventure. In years he is not yet thirty, +but he is and always was a leader, mature, wise, calm, and resolved. +Of courage undaunted, possessing a firmness and perseverance of +purpose which nothing but impossibilities can divert from its +direction; careful as a father of those committed to his charge, and +yet steady in the maintenance of order and discipline; intimate with +the Indian character, customs, and principles; habituated to the +hunting life; guarded by exact observation of the vegetables and +animals of his own country against <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span>duplication of objects already +possessed; honest, disinterested, liberal; of sound understanding, and +of a fidelity to truth so scrupulous that whatever he shall report +will be as certain as if seen by ourselves—with all these +qualifications, I say, as if selected and implanted by nature in one +body, for one purpose, I could have no hesitation in confiding this +enterprise—the most cherished enterprise of my administration—to him +whom now you have seen here before you.”</p> + +<p>The President bowed deeply to the young man, who had modestly resumed +his place. Then, for just a moment, Mr. Jefferson stood silent, +absorbed, rapt, carried away by his own vision.</p> + +<p>“And now for my news,” he said at length. “Here you have it!”</p> + +<p>He waved once more the little scrap of paper.</p> + +<p>“I had this news from New York this morning. It was despatched +yesterday evening. Tomorrow it will reach all the world. The mails +will bring it to you; but news like this could not wait for the mails. +No horse could bring it fast enough. It was brought by a dove—the +dove of peace, I trust. Let me explain briefly; what my news concerns.</p> + +<p>“As you know, that new country yonder belonged at first to any one who +might find it—to England, if she could penetrate it first; to Spain, +if she were first to put her flag upon it; to Russia, if first she +conquered it from the far Northwest. But none of these three ever +completed acquisition by those means under which nations take title to +the new territories of the world. Louisiana, as we term it, has been +unclaimed, unknown, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>unowned—indeed, virgin territory so far as +definite title was concerned.</p> + +<p>“In the north, such title as might be was conveyed to Great Britain by +France after the latter power was conquered at Quebec. The lower +regions France—supposing that she owned them—conveyed, through her +monarch, the fifteenth Louis, to Spain. Again, in the policy of +nations, Spain sold them to France once more, in a time of need. +France owned the territory then, or had the title, though Spain still +was in possession. It lay still unoccupied, still contested—until but +now.</p> + +<p>“My friends, I give you news! On the 2d of May last, Napoleon +Bonaparte, First Consul of France, sold to this republic, the United +States of America, all of Louisiana, whatever it may be, from the +Mississippi to the Pacific! Here are seven words which carry an empire +with them—the empire of humanity—a land in which democracy, +humanity, shall expand and grow forever! This is my news:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“General Bonaparte signed May 2—Fifteen millions—Rejoice!”</p></div> + +<p>A deep sigh rose as if in unison all along the table. The event was +too large for instant grasping. There was no applause at first. +Some—many—did not understand. Not so certain others.</p> + +<p>The minister from Great Britain, the minister from Spain, Aaron Burr +and a few other men acquainted with great affairs, prominent in public +life, turned and looked at the President’s tall figure at the head of +the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span>table, and then at that of the silent young man whom Mr. +Jefferson had publicly honored.</p> + +<p>The face of Aaron Burr grew pale. The faces of the foreign ministers +showed sudden consternation. Theodosia Alston turned, her own eyes +fixed upon the grave face of the young man sitting at her side, who +made no sign of the strong emotion possessing his soul.</p> + +<p>“I have given you my news,” the voice of Mr. Jefferson went on, rising +now, vibrant and masterful, fearless, compelling. “There you have it, +this little message, large as any ever written in the world. The title +to that Western land has passed to us. We set our seal on it now! Cost +what it may, we shall hold it so long as we can claim a flag or a +country on this continent. The price is nothing. Fifteen millions +means no more than the wine or water left in a half-empty glass. It +might be fifty times fifteen millions, and yet not be one fiftieth +enough. These things are not to be measured by known signs or marks of +values. It is not in human comprehension to know what we have gained. +Hence we have no human right to boast. The hand of Almighty God is in +this affair! It was He who guided the fingers of those who signed this +cession to the United States of America!</p> + +<p>“My friends, now I am content. What remains is but detail. Our duty is +plain. Between us and this purpose, I shall hold all intervention of +whatever nature, friendly or hostile, as no more than details to be +ignored. Yonder lies and has always lain the scene of my own ambition. +Always I have hungered to know that vast new land beyond all maps, as +yet ignorant <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span>of human metes and bounds. Always I have coveted it for +this republic, knowing that without room for expansion we must fail, +that with it we shall triumph to the edge of our ultimate dream of +human destiny—triumph and flourish while governments shall remain +known among men.</p> + +<p>“I offer that faith to the eyes of the world today and of all the days +to come, believing in every humility that God guided the hands of +those who signed this title deed of a great empire, and that God long +ago implanted in my unworthy bosom the strong belief that one day this +might be which now has come to pass. It is no time for boasting, no +time for any man to claim glory or credit for himself. We are in the +face of events so vast that their margins leave our vision. We cannot +see to the end of all this, cannot read all the purpose of it, because +we are but men.</p> + +<p>“Gentlemen, you Americans, men of heart, of courage! You also, ladies, +who care most for gentlemen of heart and courage, whose pulses beat +even with our own to the stimulus of our deeds! I say to you all that +I would gladly lay aside my office and its honors—I would lay aside +all my other ambitions, all my desires to be remembered as a man who +at least endeavored to think and to act—if thereby I might lead this +expedition of our volunteers for the discovery of the West. That may +not be. These slackened sinews, these shrinking limbs, these fading +eyes, do not suffice for such a task. It is in my heart, yes; but the +heart for this magnificent adventure needs stronger pulses than my +own.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p><p>“My heart—did I say that I had need of another, a better? Did I say +that I had need of eyes and brains, of thews and sinews, of calm +nerves and steady blood? Did I say I had need of courage and +resolution—all these things combined? I have them! That Providence +who has given us all needful instruments and agents to this point in +our career as a republic has given us yet another, and the last one +needful. Tomorrow my friend, my special messenger, Captain Meriwether +Lewis, starts with his expedition. He will explore the country between +the Missouri and the Pacific—the country of my dream and his. It is +no longer the country of any other power—it is our own!</p> + +<p>“Gentlemen, I give you a toast—Captain Meriwether Lewis!”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>THE GREAT CONSPIRACY</h3> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">T</span>he simplicity dinner was at an end. Released by the President’s +withdrawal, the crowd—it could be called little else—broke from the +table. The anteroom filled with struggling guests, excited, +gesticulating, exclaiming.</p> + +<p>Meriwether Lewis, anxious only to escape from his social duties that +he might rejoin his chief, felt a soft hand on his arm, and turned. +Theodosia Alston was looking up at him.</p> + +<p>“Do you forget your friends so soon? I must add my good wishes. It was +splendid, what Mr. Jefferson said—and it was true!”</p> + +<p>“I wish it might be true,” said the young man. “I wish I might be +worthy of such a man.”</p> + +<p>“You are worthy of us all,” returned Theodosia.</p> + +<p>“People are kind to the condemned,” said he sententiously.</p> + +<p>At the door they were once more close to the others of the diplomatic +party who had sat in company at table. The usual crush of those +clamoring for their carriages had begun.</p> + +<p>“My dear,” said Mr. Merry to his irate spouse, “I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>shall, if Mrs. +Alston will permit, ask you to take her up in your carriage with you +to her home. I am to go with Mr Burr.”</p> + +<p>The Spanish minister made similar excuse to his own wife. Thus +Theodosia Alston left Meriwether Lewis for the second time that day.</p> + +<p>It was a late conference, the one held that night at the home of the +Vice-President of the United States. Burr, cool, calculating, always +in hand, sat and weighed many matters well before he committed himself +beyond repair. His keen mind saw now, and seized the advantage for +which he waited.</p> + +<p>“You say right, gentlemen, both of you,” he began, leaning forward. “I +would not blame you if you never went to the White House again.”</p> + +<p>“Should I ever do so again,” blazed the Spanish minister, “I will take +my own wife in to dinner on my own arm, and place her at the head of +the table, where she belongs! It was an insult to my sovereign that we +received today.”</p> + +<p>“As much myself, sir!” said Mr. Merry, his brows contracted, his face +flushed still with anger. “I shall know how to answer the next +invitation which comes from Mr Jefferson.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> I shall ask him whether +or not <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span>there is to be any repetition of this sort of thing.”</p> + +<p>“So much for the rule of the plain people!” said Burr, as he laid the +tips of his fingers together contemplatively.</p> + +<p>“Yet, Colonel Burr, you are Vice-President under this administration!” +broke out Merry.</p> + +<p>“One must use agencies and opportunities as they <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span>offer. My dear sir, +perhaps you do not fully know me. I took this election only in order +to be close to the seat of affairs. I am no such rabid adherent to +democracy as some may think. You would be startled if I told you that +I regard this republic as no more than an experiment. This is a large +continent. Take all that Western country—Louisiana—it ought not to +be called attached to the United States. At this very moment it is +half in rebellion against its constituted authorities. More than once +it has been ready to take arms, to march against New Orleans, and to +set up a new country of its own. It is geography which fights for +monarchy, against democracy, on this continent—in spite of what all +these people say.”</p> + +<p>“Sir,” said the British minister, “you have been a student of +affairs.”</p> + +<p>“And why not? I claim intelligence, good education, association with +men of thought. My reason tells me that conquest is in the blood of +those men who settled in the Mississippi Valley. They went into +Kentucky and Tennessee for the sake of conquest. They are restless, +unattached, dissatisfied—ready for any great move. No move can be +made which will seem too great or too daring for them. Now let me +confess somewhat to you—for I know that you will respect my +confidence, if you go no further with me than you have gone tonight. I +have bought large acreages of land in the lower Louisiana country, +ostensibly for colonization purposes. I do purpose colonization +there—<i>but not under the flag of this republic!</i>”</p> + +<p>Silence greeted his remark. The others sat for a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span>moment, merely +gazing at him, half stunned, remembering only that he was Jefferson’s +colleague, Vice-President of the United States.</p> + +<p>“You cannot force geography,” resumed Burr, in tones as even as if he +had but spoken of bartering for a house and lot. “Lower Louisiana and +Mexico together—yes, perhaps. Florida, with us—yes, perhaps. Indeed, +territories larger perhaps than any of us dare dream at present, once +our new flag is raised. All that I purpose is to do what has been +discussed a thousand times before—to unite in a natural alliance of +self-interest those men who are sundered in every way of interest and +alliance from the government on this side of the Alleghanies. Would +you call that treason—conspiracy? I dislike the words. I call it +rather a plan based upon sound reason and common sense; and I hold +that its success is virtually assured.”</p> + +<p>“You will explain more fully, Colonel Burr?” Mr. Merry was intent now +on all that he heard.</p> + +<p>“I march only with destiny, yonder—do you not see, gentlemen?” Burr +resumed. “Those who march with me are in alliance with natural events. +This republic is split now, at this very moment. It must follow its +own fate. If the flag of Spain were west of it on the south, and the +flag of Britain west of it on the north, why, then we should have the +natural end of the republic’s expansion. With those great powers in +alliance at its back, with the fleets of England on the seas, at the +mouth of the great river—owning the lands in Canada on the north—it +would be a simple thing, I say, to crush this republic against the +wall of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>the Appalachians, or to drive it once more into the sea.”</p> + +<p>They were silent alike before the enormousness and the enormity of +this. Reading their thoughts, Burr raised his hand in deprecation.</p> + +<p>“I know what is in your minds, gentlemen. The one thing which troubles +you is this—the man who speaks to you is Vice-President of the United +States. I say what in your country would be treason. In this country I +maintain it is not yet treason, because thus far we are in an +experiment. We have no actual reign of reason and of law; and he +marches to success who marches with natural laws and along the +definite trend of existing circumstances and conditions.”</p> + +<p>“What you say, Mr. Burr,” began Merry gravely, “assuredly has the +merit of audacity. And I see that you have given it thought.”</p> + +<p>“I interest you, gentlemen! You can go with me only if it be to your +interest and to that of your countries to join with me in these plans. +They have gone far forward—let me tell you that. I know my men from +St. Louis to New Orleans—I know my leaders—I know that population. +If this be treason, as Mr. Patrick Henry said, let us make the most of +it. At least it is the intention of Aaron Burr. I stake upon it all my +fortune, my life, the happiness of my family. Do you think I am +sincere?”</p> + +<p>Merry sat engaged in thought. He could see vast movements in the game +of nations thus suddenly shown before him on the diplomatic board. And +on his part <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>it is to be said that he was there to represent the +interests of his own government alone.</p> + +<p>In the same even tones, Burr resumed his astonishing statements.</p> + +<p>“My son-in-law, Mr. Alston, of South Carolina—a very wealthy planter +of that State—is in full accord with all my plans. My own resources +have been pledged to their utmost, and he has been so good as to add +largely from his own. I admit to you that I sought alliance with him +deliberately when he asked my daughter’s hand. He is an ambitious man, +and perhaps he saw his way to the fulfillment of certain personal +ambitions. He has contributed fifty thousand dollars to my cause. He +will have a place of honor and profit in the new government which will +be formed yonder in the Mississippi Valley.”</p> + +<p>“So, then,” began Yrujo, “the financing is somewhat forward! But fifty +thousand is only a drop.”</p> + +<p>“We may as well be plain,” rejoined Burr. “Time is short—you know +that it is short. We all heard what Mr. Jefferson said—we know that +if we are to take action it must be at once. That expedition must not +succeed! If that wedge be driven through to the Pacific—and who can +say what that young Virginian may do?—your two countries will be +forever separated on this continent by one which will wage successful +war on both. Swift action is my only hope—and yours.”</p> + +<p>“Your funds,” said Mr. Merry, “seem to me inadequate for the demands +which will be made upon them. You said fifty thousand?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p><p>Burr nodded.</p> + +<p>“I pledge you as much more—on one condition that I shall name.”</p> + +<p>Burr turned from Mr. Merry to Señor Yrujo. The latter nodded.</p> + +<p>“I undertake to contribute the same amount,” said the envoy of Spain, +“but with no condition attached.”</p> + +<p>The color deepened in the cheek of the great conspirator. His eye +glittered a trifle more brilliantly.</p> + +<p>“You named a certain condition, sir,” he said to Merry.</p> + +<p>“Yes, one entirely obvious.”</p> + +<p>“What is it, then, your excellency?” Burr inquired.</p> + +<p>“You yourself have made it plain. The infernal ingenuity of yonder +Corsican—curse his devilish brain!—has rolled a greater stone in our +yard than could be placed there by any other human agency. We could +not believe that Napoleon Bonaparte would part with Louisiana thus +easily. No doubt he feared the British fleet at the mouth of the +river—no doubt Spain was glad enough that our guns were not at New +Orleans ere this. But, I say, he rolled that stone in our yard. If +title to this Louisiana purchase is driven through to the Pacific—as +Mr. Jefferson plans so boldly—the end is written now, Colonel Burr, +to all your enterprises! Britain will be forced to content herself +with what she can take on the north, and Spain eventually will hold +nothing worth having on the south. By the Lord, General Bonaparte +fights well—he knows how to sacrifice a pawn in order to checkmate a +king!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p><p>“Yes, your excellency,” said Burr, “I agree with you, but——”</p> + +<p>“And now my condition. Follow me closely. I say if that wedge is +driven home—if that expedition of Mr. Jefferson’s shall succeed—its +success will rest on one factor. In short, there is a man at the head +of that expedition who must fight with us and not against us, else my +own interest in this matter lacks entirely. You know the man I have in +mind.”</p> + +<p>Burr nodded, his lips compressed.</p> + +<p>“That young man, Colonel Burr, will go through! I know his kind. +Believe me, if I know men, he is a strong man. Let that man come back +from his expedition with the map of a million square miles of new +American territory hanging at his belt, like a scalp torn from his +foes—and there will be no chance left for Colonel Burr and his +friends!”</p> + +<p>“All that your excellency has said tallies entirely with our own +beliefs,” rejoined Burr. “But what then? What is the condition?”</p> + +<p>“Simply this—we must have Captain Lewis with us and not against us. I +want that man! I must have him. That expedition must never proceed. It +must be delayed, stopped. Money was raised twenty years ago in London +to make this same sort of journey across the continent, but the plan +fell through. Revive it now, and we English still may pull it off. But +it will be too late if Captain Lewis goes forward now—too late for +us—too late for you and your plan, Mr. Burr. I want that man! We must +have him with us!”</p> + +<p>Burr sat in silence for a time.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p><p>“You open up a singular train of thought for me, your excellency,” +said he at length. “He does belong with us, that young Virginian!”</p> + +<p>“You know him, then?” inquired the British minister. “That is to say, +you know him well?”</p> + +<p>“Perfectly. Why should I not? He nearly was my son-in-law. Egad! Give +him two weeks more, and he might have been—he got the news of my +daughter’s marriage just too late. It hit him hard. In truth, I doubt +if he ever has recovered from it. They say he still takes it hard. +Now, you ask me how to get that man, your excellency. There is perhaps +one way in which it could be accomplished, and only one.”</p> + +<p>“How, then?” inquired Merry.</p> + +<p>“The way of a woman with a man may always be the answer in matters of +that sort!” said Aaron Burr.</p> + +<p>The three sat and looked each at the other for some time without +comment.</p> + +<p>“I find Colonel Burr’s brain active in all ways!” began Señor Yrujo +dryly. “Now I confess that he goes somewhat in advance of mine.”</p> + +<p>“Listen,” said Aaron Burr. “What Mr. Jefferson said of Captain Lewis +is absolutely true—his will has never been known to relax or weaken. +Once resolved, he cannot change—I will not say he does not, but that +he cannot.”</p> + +<p>“Then even the unusual weapon you suggest might not avail!” Mr. +Merry’s smile was not altogether pleasant.</p> + +<p>“Women would listen to him readily, I think,” remarked Yrujo.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p><p>“Gallant in his way, yes,” said Burr.</p> + +<p>“Then what do you mean by saying something about the way of a woman +with a man?”</p> + +<p>“Only that it is the last remaining opportunity for us,” rejoined +Aaron Burr. “The appeal to his senses—of course, we will set that +aside. The appeal to his chivalry—that is better! The appeal to his +ambition—that is less, but might be used. The appeal to his +sympathy—the wish to be generous with the woman who has not been +generous with him, for the reason that she could not be—here again +you have another argument which we may claim as possible.”</p> + +<p>“You reason well,” said Merry. “But while men are mortal, yonder, if I +mistake not, is a gentleman.”</p> + +<p>“Precisely,” said Burr. “If we ask him to resign his expedition we are +asking him to alter all his loyalty to his chief—and he will not do +that. Any appeal made to him must be to his honor or to his chivalry; +otherwise it were worse than hopeless. He would no more be disloyal to +my son-in-law, the lady’s husband—in case it came to that—than he +would be disloyal to the orders of his chief.”</p> + +<p>“Fie! Fie!” said Yrujo, serving himself with wine from a decanter on +the table. “All men are mortal. I agree with your first proposition, +Colonel Burr, that the safest argument with a man—with a young man +especially, and such a young man—is a woman—and such a woman!”</p> + +<p>“One thing is sure,” rejoined Burr, flushing. “That man will succeed +unless some woman induces him to change—some woman, acting under an +appeal to his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span>chivalry or his sense of justice. His reasons must be +honest to him. They must be honest to her alike.”</p> + +<p>Burr added this last virtuously, and Mr. Merry bowed deeply in return.</p> + +<p>“This is not only honorable of you, Colonel Burr, but logical.”</p> + +<p>“That means some sort of sacrifice for him,” suggested Yrujo +presently. “But some one is sacrificed in every great undertaking. We +cannot count the loss of men when nations seek to extend their +boundaries and enhance their power. Only the question is, at what +sacrifice, through what appeal to his chivalry, can his assistance be +carried to us?”</p> + +<p>“We have left out of our accounting one factor,” said Burr after a +time.</p> + +<p>“What, then?”</p> + +<p>“One factor, I repeat, we have overlooked,” said Burr. “That is the +wit of a woman! I am purposing to send as our agent with him no other +than my daughter, Mrs. Alston. There is no mind more brilliant, no +heart more loyal, than hers—nor any soul more filled with ambition! +She believes in her father absolutely—will use every resource of her +own to upbuild her father’s ambitions.<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> Now, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span>women have their own +ways of accomplishing results. Suppose we leave it to my daughter to +fashion her own campaign? There is nothing wrong in the relations of +these two, but at table today I saw his look to her, and hers to him +in reply. We are speaking in deep and sacred confidence here, +gentlemen. So I say to you, ask no questions of me, and let me ask +none of her. Let me only say to her: ‘My daughter, your father’s +success, his life, his fortune—the life and fortune and success of +your husband as well—depend upon one event, depend upon you and your +ability to stop yonder expedition of Captain Meriwether Lewis into the +Missouri country!’”</p> + +<p>“When could we learn?” demanded the British minister.</p> + +<p>“I cannot say how long a time it may take,” Burr replied. “I promise +you that my daughter shall have a personal interview with Captain +Lewis before he starts for the West.”</p> + +<p>“But he starts at dawn!” smiled Minister Merry.</p> + +<p>“Were it an hour earlier than that, I would promise it. But now, +gentlemen, let us come to the main point. If we succeed, what then?”</p> + +<p>The British minister was businesslike and definite.</p> + +<p>“Fifty thousand dollars at once, out of a special fund in my control. +Meantime I would write at once to my government and lay the matter +before them.<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>We shall need a fleet at the south of the Mississippi +River. That will cost money—it will require at least half a million +dollars to assure any sort of success in plans so large as yours, Mr. +Burr. But on the contingency that she stops him, I promise you that +amount. Fifty thousand down—a half-million more when needed.”</p> + +<p>The dark eye of Aaron Burr flashed.</p> + +<p>“Then,” said he firmly, “success will meet our efforts—I guarantee +it! I pledge all my personal fortune, my friends, my family, to the +last member.”</p> + +<p>“I am for my country,” said Mr. Merry simply. “It is plain to see that +Napoleon sought to humble us by ceding that great region to this +republic. He meant to build up in the New World another enemy to Great +Britain. But if we can thwart him—if at the very start we can divide +the forces which might later be allied against us—perhaps we may +conquer a wider sphere of possession for ourselves on this rich +continent. There is no better colonizing ground in all the world!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p><p>“You understand my plan,” said Aaron Burr. “Reduced to the least +common denominator, Meriwether Lewis and my daughter Theodosia have +our fate in their hands.”</p> + +<p>The others rose. The hour was past midnight. The secret conference had +been a long one.</p> + +<p>“He starts tomorrow—is that sure?” asked Merry.</p> + +<p>“As the clock,” rejoined Burr. “She must see him before the breakfast +hour.”</p> + +<p>“My compliments, Colonel Burr. Good night!”</p> + +<p>“Good night, sir,” added Yrujo. “It has been a strange day.”</p> + +<p>“Secrecy, gentlemen, secrecy! I hope soon to have more news for you, +and good news, too. <i>Au revoir!</i>”</p> + +<p>Burr himself accompanied them to the door.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>COLONEL BURR AND HIS DAUGHTER</h3> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">O</span>ne instant Aaron Burr sat, his head dropped, revolving his plans. The +next, he pulled the bell-cord and paced the floor until he had answer.</p> + +<p>“Go at once to Mrs. Alston’s rooms, Charles,” said he to the servant. +“Tell her to rise and come to me at once. Tell her not to wait. Do you +hear?”</p> + +<p>He still paced the floor until he heard a light <i>frou-frou</i> in the +hall, a light knock at the door. His daughter entered, her eyes still +full of sleep, her attire no more than a loose peignoir caught up and +thrown above her night garments.</p> + +<p>“What is it, father—are you ill?”</p> + +<p>“Far from it, my child,” said he, turning with head erect. “I am +alive, well, and happier than I have been for months—years. I need +you—come, sit here and listen to me.”</p> + +<p>He caught her to him with a swift, paternal embrace—he loved no +mortal being as he did his daughter—then pushed her tenderly into the +deep seat near by the lamp, while he continued pacing up and down the +room, voluble and persuasive, full of his great idea.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p><p>The matters which he had but now discussed with the two foreign +officials he placed before his daughter. He told her all—except the +truth. And Aaron Burr knew how to gild falsehood itself until it +seemed the truth.</p> + +<p>“Now you have it, my dear,” said he. “You see, my ambition to found a +country of my own, where a man may have a real ambition. This dirty +village here is too narrow a field for talents like yours or mine. Let +me tell you, Napoleon has played a great jest with Mr. Jefferson. +There is nothing in the Constitution of the United States—I am lawyer +enough to know that—which will make it possible for Congress to +ratify the purchase of Louisiana. We cannot carve new States from that +country—it is already settled by the subjects of another government. +Hence the expedition of Mr. Lewis must fail—it must surely fall of +its own weight. It is based upon an absurdity. Not even Mr. Jefferson +can fly in the face of the supreme laws of the land.</p> + +<p>“But as to the Mississippi Valley, matters are entirely different. +There is no law against that country’s organizing for a better +government. There is every natural reason for that. As these States on +the East confederated in the cause against oppression, so can those +yonder. There will be more opportunity for strong men there when that +game is on the board—men like Captain Lewis, for instance. Should one +ally one’s self with a foredoomed failure? Not at all. I prefer rather +success—station, rank, power, money, for myself, if you please. With +us—a million dollars <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span>for the founding of our new country. With +him—for the undertaking of yonder impracticable and chimerical +expedition, twenty-five hundred dollars! Which enterprise, think you, +will win?</p> + +<p>“But, on the other hand, if that expedition of Mr. Jefferson’s should +succeed by virtue of accident, or of good leadership, all my plans +must fail—that is plain. It comes, therefore, to this, Theo, and I +may tell you plainly—Captain Lewis must be seen—he must be +stopped—we must hold a conference with him. It would be useless for +me to undertake to arrange all that. There is only one person who can +save your father’s future—and that one, my daughter, is—you!”</p> + +<p>He caught Theodosia’s look of surprise, her start, the swift flush on +her cheek—and laughed lightly.</p> + +<p>“Let me explain. Aaron Burr and all his family—all his friends—will +reach swift advancement in yonder new government. Power, place—these +are the things that strong men covet. That is what the game of +politics means for strong men—that is why we fight so bitterly for +office. I plan for myself some greater office than second fiddle in +this tawdry republic along the Atlantic. I want the first place, and +in a greater field! I will take my friends with me. I want men who can +lead other men. I want men like Captain Lewis.”</p> + +<p>“It seems that you value him more now than once you did.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, that is true, Theo, that is true. I did not favor his suit for +your hand at that time. Although he had a modest fortune in Virginia +lands, he could <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span>not offer you the future assured by Mr. Alston. I was +rejoiced—I admit it frankly—when I learned that young Captain Lewis +came just too late, for I feared you would have preferred him. And yet +I saw his quality then—Mr. Jefferson sees it—he is a good chooser of +men. But Captain Lewis must not advance beyond the Ohio. That is a +large task for a woman.”</p> + +<p>“What woman, father?”</p> + +<p>A flush came to her pale cheek. Her father turned to her directly, his +own piercing gaze aflame.</p> + +<p>“There is but one woman on earth could do that, my daughter! That +young man’s fate was settled when he looked on that woman—when he +looked on you!”</p> + +<p>She swiftly turned her head aside, not answering.</p> + +<p>“Am I so engaged in affairs that I cannot see the obvious, my dear?” +went on the vibrant voice. “Had I no eyes for what went on at my side +this very evening, at Mr. Jefferson’s dinner-table? Could I fail to +observe his look to you—and, yes, am I not sensible to what your eyes +said to him in reply?”</p> + +<p>“Do you believe that of me—and you my father?”</p> + +<p>“I believe nothing dishonorable of you, my dear,” said Burr. “Neither +could I ask anything dishonorable. But I know what young blood will +do. Your eyes said no more than that for me. I know you wish him +well—know you wish well for his ambition, his success—am sure you do +not wish to see him doomed to failure. What? Would you see his career +blighted when it should be but begun?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p><p>“There would be prospects for him?”</p> + +<p>“All the prospects in the world! I would place him only second to +myself, so highly do I value his talents in an enterprise such as +this. Alston’s money, but Lewis’s brains and courage! They both love +you—do I not know?”</p> + +<p>Troubled, again she turned her gaze aside.</p> + +<p>“Listen, my daughter. That young man is wise—he has no such vast +belief in yonder expedition. He is going in desperation, to escape a +memory! Is it not true? Tell me—and believe that I am not blind—is +not Captain Lewis going into the Missouri country in order to forget a +certain woman? And do we not know, my daughter, who that woman is?”</p> + +<p>Still her downcast eye gave him no reply.</p> + +<p>“Meriwether Lewis yonder among the savages is a failure. Meriwether +Lewis with me is second only to the vice-regent of the lower Louisiana +country. Texas, Florida, much of Mexico, will join with us, that is +sure. We fight with the great nations of the world, not against +them—we fight with the stars in their courses, and not against them.</p> + +<p>“Now, you have two pictures, my dear—one of Meriwether Lewis, the +wanderer, a broken and hopeless man, living among the savages, a log +hut his home, a camp fire the only hearth he knows. Picture that +hopeless and broken man—condemned to that by yourself, my dear—and +then picture that other figure whom you can see rescued, restored to +the world, placed by your own hand in a station of dignity and power. +Then, indeed, he might forget—he might forgive. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span>Yonder he will +forsake his manhood—he will relax his ideals, and go down, step by +step, until he shall not think of you again.</p> + +<p>“There are two pictures, my daughter. Which do you prefer—what do you +decide to do? Shall you condemn him, or shall you rescue him? Forgive +your father for having spoken thus plainly. I know your heart—I know +your generosity as well as I know your loyalty and ambition. There is +no reason, my dear, why, for the sake of your father, for the sake of +yourself, <i>and for the sake of that young man yonder</i>, you should not +go to him immediately and carry my message.”</p> + +<p>“Could it be possible,” she began at length, half musing, “that I, who +made Captain Lewis so unhappy, could aid a man like him to reach a +higher and better place in life? Could I save him from himself—and +from myself?”</p> + +<p>“You speak like my own daughter! If that generous wish bore fruit, I +think that in the later years of life, for both of you, the reflection +would prove not unwelcome. I know, as well as I know anything, that no +other woman will ever hold a place in the heart of Meriwether Lewis. +There is a memory there which will shut out all other things on earth. +We deal now in delicate matters, it is true; but I have been frank +with you, because, knowing your loyalty and fairness, knowing your +ambition, even-paced with mine, none the less I know your discretion +and your generosity as well. You see, I have chosen the best messenger +in all the world to advance my own ambition. Indeed, I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span>have chosen +the only one in all the world who might undertake this errand with the +slightest prospect of success.”</p> + +<p>“What can I do, father?”</p> + +<p>“In the morning that young man will start. It is now two by the clock. +We are late. He will start with the rising sun. It is doubtful if he +will see his bed at all tonight.”</p> + +<p>“You have called me for a strange errand, father,” said Theodosia +Alston, at length. “So far as my brain grasps these things, I go with +you in your plans. I could plan no treachery against this country, nor +could you—you are its sworn servant, its high official.”</p> + +<p>“Treachery? No, it is statesmanship, it is service to mankind!”</p> + +<p>“My consent to that, yes. But as to seeing Captain Lewis, there is, as +you know, but one way. I go not as Theodosia Burr, but as Mrs. Alston +of Carolina. I am a woman of honor; he is a man of honor. No argument +on earth would avail with him except such as might be based upon honor +and loyalty. Nor would any argument, even if offered by my father, +avail otherwise with me.”</p> + +<p>She turned upon him now the full gaze of her dark eyes, serious, +luminous, yet tender, her love for him showing so clearly that he came +to her softly, took her hands, caught her to his bosom, and kissed her +tenderly.</p> + +<p>“Theodosia,” said he, “aid me! If the fire of my ambition has consumed +me, I have come to you, because I know your love, because I know your +loyalty! <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span>I have not slept tonight,” he added, passing a hand across +his forehead.</p> + +<p>“There will be no more sleep for me tonight,” was her reply.</p> + +<p>“You will see him in the morning?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>THE PARTING</h3> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">T</span>here were others in Washington who did not sleep that night. A light +burned until sunrise in the little office-room of Thomas Jefferson. +Spread upon his desk, covering its litter of unfinished business, lay +a large map—a map which today would cause any schoolboy to smile, but +which at that time represented the wisdom of the world regarding the +interior of the great North American continent. It had served to +afford anxious study for two men, these many hours.</p> + +<p>“Yonder it lies, Captain Lewis!” said Mr. Jefferson at length. “How +vast, how little known! We know our climate and soil here. It is but +reasonable to suppose that they exist yonder as they do with us, in +some part, at least. If so, yonder are homes for millions now unborn. +Had General Bonaparte known the value of that land, he would have +fought the world rather than alienate such a region.”</p> + +<p>The President tapped a long forefinger on the map.</p> + +<p>“This, then,” he went on, “is your country. Find it out—bring back to +me examples of its soil, its products, its vegetable and animal life. +Espy out especially <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span>for us any strange animals there may be of which +science has not yet account. I hold it probable that there may be +yonder living examples of the mastodon, whose bones we have found in +Kentucky. You yourself may see those enormous creatures yet alive.”</p> + +<p>Meriwether Lewis listened in silence. Mr. Jefferson turned to another +branch of his theme.</p> + +<p>“I fancy that some time there will be a canal built across the isthmus +that binds this continent to the one below—a canal which shall +connect the two great oceans. But that is far in the future. It is for +you to spy out the way now, across the country itself. Explore +it—discover it—it is our new world.</p> + +<p>“A few must think for the many,” he went on. “I had to smuggle this +appropriation through Congress—twenty-five hundred dollars—the price +of a poor Virginia farm! I have tampered with the Constitution itself +in order to make this purchase of a country not included in our +original territorial lines. I have taken my own chances—just as you +must take yours now. The finger of God will be your guide and your +protector. Are you ready, Captain Lewis? It is late.”</p> + +<p>Indeed, the sun was rising over Washington, the mists of morning were +reeking along the banks of the Potomac.</p> + +<p>“I can start in half an hour,” replied Meriwether Lewis.</p> + +<p>“Are your men ready, your supplies gathered together?”</p> + +<p>“The rendezvous is at Harper’s Ferry, up the river. The wagons with +the supplies are ready there. I will <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>take boat from here myself with +a few of the men. Not later than tomorrow afternoon I promise that we +will be on our way. We burn the bridges behind us, and cross none +until we come to them.”</p> + +<p>“Spoken like a soldier! It is in your hands. Go then!”</p> + +<p>There was one look, one handclasp. The two men parted; nor did they +meet again for years.</p> + +<p>Mr. Jefferson did not look from his window to see the departure of his +young friend, nor did the latter again call at the door to say +good-by. Theirs was indeed a warrior-like simplicity.</p> + +<p>The sun still was young when Meriwether Lewis at length descended the +steps of the Executive Mansion.</p> + +<p>He was clad now for his journey, not in buckskin hunting-garb, but +with regard for the conventions of a country by no means free of +convention. His jacket was of close wool, belted; his boots were high +and suitable for riding. His stock, snowy white—for always Meriwether +Lewis was immaculate—rose high around his throat, in spite of the hot +summer season, and his hands were gloved. He seemed soldier, leader, +officer, and gentleman.</p> + +<p>No retinue, however, attended him; no servant was at his side. He went +afoot, and carried with him his most precious luggage—the long rifle +which he never entrusted to any hands save his own. Close wrapped +around the stock, on the crook of his arm, and not yet slung over his +shoulder, was a soiled buckskin pouch, which went always with the +rifle—the “possible sack” <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span>of the wilderness hunter of that time. It +contained his bullets, bullet-molds, flints, a bar or two of lead, +some tinder for priming, a set of awls.</p> + +<p>Such was the leader of one of the great expeditions of the world.</p> + +<p>Meriwether Lewis had few good-bys to say. He had written but one +letter—to his mother—late the previous morning. It was worded thus:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>The day after tomorrow I shall set out for the Western +country. I had calculated on the pleasure of visiting you +before I started, but circumstances have rendered it +impossible. My absence will probably be equal to fifteen or +eighteen months.</p> + +<p>The nature of this expedition is by no means dangerous. My +route will be altogether through tribes of Indians friendly +to the United States, therefore I consider the chances of +life just as much in my favor as I should conceive them were +I to remain at home. The charge of this expedition is +honorable to myself, as it is important to my country.</p> + +<p>For its fatigues I feel myself perfectly prepared, nor do I +doubt my health and strength of constitution to bear me +through it. I go with the most perfect preconviction in my +own mind of returning safe, and hope, therefore that you +will not suffer yourself to indulge in any anxiety for my +safety.</p> + +<p>I will write again on my arrival at Pittsburgh. Adieu, and +believe me your affectionate son.</p></div> + +<p>No regrets, no weak reflections for this man with a warrior’s weapon +on his arm—where no other burden might lie in all his years. His were +to be the comforts of the trail, the rude associations with common +men, the terrors of the desert and the mountain; his fireside only +that of the camp. Yet he advanced to his future <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span>steadily, his head +high, his eye on ahead—a splendid figure of a man.</p> + +<p>He did not at first hear the gallop of hoofs on the street behind him +as at last, a mile or more from the White House gate, he turned toward +the river front. He was looking at the dull flood of the Potomac, now +visible below him; but he paused, something appealing to the strange +sixth sense of the hunter, and turned.</p> + +<p>A rider, a mounted servant, was beckoning to him. Behind the horseman, +driven at a stiff gait, came a carriage which seemed to have but a +single occupant. Captain Lewis halted, gazed, then hastened forward, +hat in his hand.</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Alston!” he exclaimed, as the carriage came up. “Why are you +here? Is there any news?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, else I could not have come.”</p> + +<p>“But why have you come? Tell me!”</p> + +<p>He motioned the outrider aside, sprang into the vehicle and told the +driver to draw a little apart from the more public street. Here he +caught up the reins himself, and, ordering the driver to join the +footman at the edge of the roadway they had left, turned to the woman +at his side.</p> + +<p>“Pardon me,” said he, and his voice was cold; “I thought I had cut all +ties.”</p> + +<p>“Knit them again for my sake, then, Meriwether Lewis! I have brought +you a summons to return.”</p> + +<p>“A summons? From whom?”</p> + +<p>“My father—Mr. Merry—Señor Yrujo. They were at our home all night. +We could not—they could not—I could not—bear to see you sacrifice +yourself. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span>This expedition can only fail! I implore you not to go upon +it! Do not let your man’s pride drive you!”</p> + +<p>She was excited, half sobbing.</p> + +<p>“It does drive me, indeed,” said he simply. “I am under orders—I am +the leader of this expedition of my government. I do not +understand——”</p> + +<p>“At this hour—on this errand—only one motive could have brought me! +It is your interest. Oh, it is not for myself—it is for your future.”</p> + +<p>“Why did you come thus, unattended? There is something you are +concealing. Tell me!”</p> + +<p>“Ah, you are harsh—you have no sympathy, no compassion, no gratitude! +But listen, and I will tell you. My father, Mr. Merry, the Spanish +minister, are all men of affairs. They have watched the planning of +this expedition. Why fly in the face of prophecy and of Providence? +That is what my father says. He says that country can never be of +benefit to our Union—that no new States can be made from it. He says +the people will pass down the Mississippi River, but not beyond it; +that it is the natural line of our expansion—that men who are actual +settlers are bound not into the unknown West, but into the well-known +South. He begs of you to follow the course of events, and not to fly +in the face of Providence.”</p> + +<p>“You speak well! Go on.”</p> + +<p>“England is with us, and Spain—they back my father’s plans.”</p> + +<p>He turned now and raised a hand.</p> + +<p>“Plans? What plans? I must warn you, I am pledged to my own country’s +service.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p><p>“Is not my father also? He is one of the highest officers in the +government of this country.”</p> + +<p>“You may tell me more or not, as you like.”</p> + +<p>“There is little more to tell,” said she. “These gentlemen have made +certain plans of which I know little. My father said to me that Thomas +Jefferson himself knows that this purchase from Napoleon cannot be +made under the Constitution of the United States—that, given time for +reflection, Mr. Jefferson himself will admit that the Louisiana +purchase was but a national folly from which this country cannot +benefit. Why not turn, then, to a future which offers certainties? Why +not come with us, and not attempt the impossible? That is what he +said. And he asked me to implore you to pause.”</p> + +<p>He sat motionless, looking straight ahead, as she went on.</p> + +<p>“He only besought me to induce you, if I could, either to abandon +your expedition wholly as soon as you honorably might do so, or to +go on with it only to such point as will prove it unfeasible and +impracticable. Not wishing you to prove traitorous to a trust, +these gentlemen wish you to know that they would value your +association—that they would give you splendid opportunity. With men +such as these, that means a swift future of success for one—for +one—whom I shall always cherish warmly in my heart.”</p> + +<p>The color was full in her face. He turned toward her suddenly, his eye +clouded.</p> + +<p>“It is an extraordinary matter in every way which you bring for me,” +he said slowly; “extraordinary that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>foreigners, not friends of this +country, should call themselves the friends of an officer sworn to the +service of the republic! I confess I do not understand it. And why +send you?”</p> + +<p>“It is difficult for me to tell you. But my father knew the antagonism +between Mr. Jefferson and himself, and knew your friendship for Mr. +Jefferson. He knew also the respect, the pity—oh, what shall I +say?—which I have always felt for you—the regard——”</p> + +<p>“Regard! What do you mean?”</p> + +<p>“I did not mean regard, but the—the wish to see you succeed, to help +you, if I could, to take your place among men. I told you that but +yesterday.”</p> + +<p>She was all confusion now. He seemed pitiless.</p> + +<p>“I have listened long enough to have my curiosity aroused. I shall +have somewhat to ponder—on the trail to the West.”</p> + +<p>“Then you mean that you will go on?”</p> + +<p>“Yes!”</p> + +<p>“You do not understand——”</p> + +<p>“No! I understand only that Mr. Jefferson has never abandoned a plan +or a promise or a friend. Shall I, then, who have been his scholar and +his friend?”</p> + +<p>“Ah, you two! What manner of men are you that you will not listen to +reason? He is high in power. Will you not also listen to the call of +your own ambition? Why, in that country below, you might hold a +station as proud as that of Mr. Jefferson himself. Will you throw that +away, for the sake of a few dried skins and flowers? You speak of +being devoted to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span>your country. What is devotion—what is your +country? You have no heart—that I know well; but I credited you with +the brain and the ambition of a man!”</p> + +<p>He sat motionless under the sting of her reproaches; and as some +reflection came to her upon the savagery of her own words, she laughed +bitterly.</p> + +<p>“Think you that I would have come here for any other man?” she +demanded. “Think you that I would ask of you anything to my own +dishonor, or to your dishonor? But now you do not listen. You will not +come back—even for me!”</p> + +<p>In answer he simply bent and kissed her hand, stepped from the +carriage, raised his hat. Yet he hesitated for half an instant and +turned back.</p> + +<p>“Theodosia,” said he, “it is hard for me not to do anything you ask of +me—you do not know how hard; but surely you understand that I am a +soldier and am under orders. I have no option. It seems to me that the +plans of your father and his friends should be placed at once before +Mr. Jefferson. It is strange they sent you, a woman, as their +messenger! You have done all that a woman could. No other woman in the +world could have done as much with me. But—my men are waiting for +me.”</p> + +<p>This time he did not turn back again.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>Colonel Burr’s carriage returned more slowly than it had come. It was +a dejected occupant who at last made her way, still at an early hour, +to the door of her father’s house.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p><p>Burr met her at the door. His keen eye read the answer at once.</p> + +<p>“You have failed!” said he.</p> + +<p>She raised her dark eyes to his, herself silent, mournful.</p> + +<p>“What did he say?” demanded Burr.</p> + +<p>“Said he was under orders—said you should go to Mr. Jefferson with +your plan—said Mr. Jefferson alone could stop him. Failed? Yes, I +failed!”</p> + +<p>“You failed,” said Burr, “because you did not use the right argument +with him. The next time <i>you must not fail</i>. You must use better +arguments!”</p> + +<p>Theodosia stood motionless for an instant, looking at her father, then +passed back into the house.</p> + +<p>“Listen, my daughter,” said Burr at length, in his eye a light that +she never had known before. “You <i>must</i> see that man again, and bring +him back into our camp! We need him. Without him I cannot handle +Merry, and without Merry I cannot handle Yrujo. Without them my plan +is doomed. If it fails, your husband has lost fifty thousand dollars +and all the moneys to which he is pledged beyond that. You and I will +be bankrupt—penniless upon the streets, do you hear?—unless you +bring that man back. Granted that all goes well, it means half a +million dollars pledged for my future by Great Britain herself, half +as much pledged by Spain, success and future honor and power for you +and me—and him. He <i>must</i> come back! That expedition must not go +beyond the Mississippi. You ask me what to tell him? Ask him no longer +to return to us and opportunity. <i>Ask him to come back</i> <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span><i>to Theodosia +Burr and happiness</i>—do you understand?”</p> + +<p>“Sir,” said his daughter, “I think—I think I do not understand!”</p> + +<p>He seemed not to hear her—or to toss her answer aside.</p> + +<p>“You must try again,” said he, “and with the right weapons—the old +ones, my dear—the old weapons of a woman!”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>MR. THOMAS JEFFERSON</h3> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">N</span>ot in fifty years, said Thomas Jefferson in the last days of his +life, had the sun caught him in bed. On this morning, having said +good-by to the man to whose hands he had entrusted the dearest +enterprise of all his life, he turned back to his desk in the little +office-room, and throughout the long and heated day, following a night +spent wholly without sleep, he remained engaged in his usual labors, +which were the heavier in his secretary’s absence.</p> + +<p>He was an old man now, but a giant in frame, a giant in mind, a giant +in industry as well. He sat at his desk absorbed, sleepless, with that +steady application which made possible the enormous total of his +life’s work. He was writing in a fine, delicate hand—legible to this +day—certain of those thousands of letters and papers which have been +given to us as the record of his career.</p> + +<p>In what labor was the President of the United States engaged on this +particularly eventful day? It seems he found more to do with household +matters than with affairs of state. He was making careful accounts of +his French cook, his Irish coachman, his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span>black servants still +remaining at his country house in Virginia.</p> + +<p>All his life Thomas Jefferson kept itemized in absolute faithfulness a +list of all his personal expenses—even to the gratuities he expended +in traveling and entertainment. We find, for instance, that “John +Cramer is to go into the service of Mr. Jefferson at twelve dollars a +month and twopence for drink, two suits of clothes and a pair of +boots.” It seems that he bought a bootjack for three shillings; and +the cost of countless other household items is as carefully set down.</p> + +<p>We may learn from records of this date that in the past year Mr. +Jefferson had expended in charity $1,585.60. He tells us that in the +first three months of his presidency his expenses were $565.84—and he +was wrong ten cents in his addition of the total! In his own hand he +sets down “A View of the Consumption of Butchers’ Meat from September +6, 1801, to June 12, 1802.” He knew perfectly well, indeed, what all +his household expenses were, also what it cost him to maintain his +stables. He did all this bookkeeping himself, and at the end of each +year was able to tell precisely where his funds had gone.</p> + +<p>We may note one such annual statement, that of the year ended five +months previous to the time when Captain Lewis set forth into the +West:</p> + +<div class="centered"> +<table border="0" width="50%" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="1" summary="EXPENSES"> + +<tr><td align="left">Provisions</td> +<td align="right">$4,059.98</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Wines</td> +<td align="right">1,296.63</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Groceries</td> +<td align="right">1,624.76</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Fuel</td> +<td align="right">553.68</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Secretary</td> +<td align="right">600.00</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>Servants</td> +<td align="right">2,014.89</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Miscellaneous</td> +<td align="right">433.30</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Stable</td> +<td align="right">399.06</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Dress</td> +<td align="right">246.05</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Charities</td> +<td align="right">1,585.60</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Pres. House</td> +<td align="right">226.59</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Books</td> +<td align="right">497.41</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Household expenses</td> +<td align="right">393.00</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Monticello—plantation</td> +<td align="right">2,226.45</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">“ —family</span></td> +<td align="right">1,028.79</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Loans</td> +<td align="right">274.00</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Debts</td> +<td align="right">529.61</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Asquisitions—lands bought</td> +<td align="right">2,156.86</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">“ —buildings</span></td> +<td align="right">3,567.92</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">“ —carriages</span></td> +<td align="right">363.75</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">“ —furniture</span></td> +<td align="right">664.10</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 1.3em;">Total</span></td> +<td align="right">$24,682.45</td></tr></table></div> + +<p>Mr. Jefferson says in rather shamefaced fashion to his diary:</p> + +<div class="centered"> +<table border="0" width="55%" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="1" summary="ACCTG"> + +<tr><td align="left">I ought by this statement to have cash in hand</td> +<td align="right">$183.70</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">But I actually have in hand</td> +<td align="right">293.00</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">So that the errors of this statement amt to</td> +<td align="right">109.20</td></tr></table></div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>The whole of the nails used for Monticello and smithwork are +omitted, because no account was kept of them. This makes +part of the error, and the article of nails has been +extraordinary this year.</p></div> + +<p>There was a curious accuracy in the analytical tests which Mr. +Jefferson applied to all the ordinary transactions of life. It was not +enough for him to know exactly how many dollars and cents he had +expended; he must know what should be the average result of such +expenditures. In the middle of a life of tremendous <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>and marvelously +varied activities he finds time to leave for us such records as these:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Mr. Remsen tells me that six cord of hickory last a +fireplace well the winter.</p> + +<p>Myrtle candles of last year out.</p> + +<p>Pd Farren an impudent surcharge for Venetn blinds, 2.66.</p> + +<p>Borrowed of Mr. Maddison order on bank for 150d.</p> + +<p>Enclosed to D. Rittenhouse, Lieper’s note of 238.57d, out of +which he is to pay for equatorial instrument for me.</p> + +<p>Hitzeimer says that a horse well fed with grain requires 100 +lb. of hay, and without grain 130 lb.</p> + +<p>T. N. Randolph has had 9 galls. whisky for his harvest.</p> + +<p>My first pipe of Termo is out—begun soon after I came home +to live from Philadelphia.</p> + +<p>Agreed with Robt. Chuning to serve me as overseer at +Monticello for £25 and 600 lb. pork. He is to come Dec. 1.</p> + +<p>Agreed with —— Bohlen to give 300 <i>livres tournois</i> for my +bust made by Ceracchi, if he shall agree to take that sum.</p> + +<p>My daughter Maria married this day.</p> + +<p>March 16—The first shad at this market today.</p> + +<p>March 28—The weeping willow shows the green leaf.</p> + +<p>April 9—Asparagus come to table.</p> + +<p>April 10—Apricots blossom.</p> + +<p>April 12—Genl. Thaddeus Kosciusko puts into my hands a +Warrant of the Treasury for 3,684.54d to have bills of +exchange bought for him.</p> + +<p>May 8—Tea out, the pound has lasted exactly 7 weeks, used 6 +times a week; this is 8-21 or .4 of an oz. a time for a +single person. A pound of tea making 126 cups costs 2d, 126 +cups or ounces of coffee—8 lb. cost 1.6.</p> + +<p>May 18—On trial it takes 11 dwt. Troy of double refined +maple sugar to a dish of coffee, or 1 lb. avoirdupois to +26.5 dishes, so that at 20 cents per lb. it is 8 mills per +dish. An ounce of coffee at 20 cents per lb. is 12.5 mills, +so that sugar and coffee of a dish is worth 2 cents.</p></div> + +<p>As to the code of official etiquette which we have seen to exist in +Washington, the President himself <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span>was responsible for it, for we +have, written out in his own delicate hand, the following explicit +instructions:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>The families of foreign ministers, arriving at the seat of +government, receive the first visit from those of the +national ministers, as from all other residents. Members of +the legislature and of the judiciary, independent of their +offices, have a right as strangers to receive the first +visit. No title being admitted here, those of foreigners +give no precedence. Difference of grade among the diplomatic +members gives no precedence.</p> + +<p>At public ceremonies the government invites the presence of +foreign ministers and their families. A convenient seat or +station will be provided for them, with any other strangers +invited, and the families of the national ministers, each +taking place as they arrive, and without any precedence.</p> + +<p>To maintain the principle of equality, or of pell-mell, and +prevent the growth of precedence out of courtesy, the +members of the executive will practise at their own houses, +and recommend an adherence to the ancient usages of the +country of gentlemen in mass giving precedence to the ladies +in mass, in passing from one apartment where they are +assembled into another.</p></div> + +<p>And so on, through reams and reams of a strange man’s life records.</p> + +<p>Why should we care to note his curious concern over details? The +answer to that question is this—obviously, Thomas Jefferson’s +estimate of a man must also in all likelihood have been curiously +exact. He did not make public to the world his judgment of Colonel +Aaron Burr, at that time Vice-President of the United States; but in +his diary, written in frankness by himself for himself, he put down +the following:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p><div class="blockquot"><p>I have never seen Colonel Burr till he became a member of +the Senate. His conduct very soon inspired me with distrust. +I habitually cautioned Mr. Madison against trusting him too +much. I saw that under General W. and Mr. Adams, where a +great military appointment or a diplomatic one was to be +made, he came post to Philadelphia to show himself, and in +fact he was always in the market if they wanted him. He was +indeed told by Dayton in 1800 that he might be Secretary at +War, but this bid was too late. His election as +Vice-President was then foreseen. With these impressions of +Colonel Burr, there never has been any intimacy between us, +and but little association.</p></div> + +<p>A certain plan of this same Colonel Burr’s now went forward in such +fashion as involved the loyalty of Meriwether Lewis, the man to whom, +of all others of his acquaintance, Thomas Jefferson gave first place +in trust and confidence and friendship—the young man who but now was +making his unostentatious departure on the great adventure that they +two had planned.</p> + +<p>His garb ill cared-for, his hair unkempt, his face a trifle haggard, +working on into the day whose dawn he had seen arise, the tall, gaunt +old man set aside first one minor matter, then another, leaving them +all exactly finished. At last he wrote down, for later forwarding, the +last item of his own knowledge regarding the new country into which he +had sent his young friend.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>I have received word from Paris that Mr. Broughton, one of +the companions of Captain Vancouver, went up the Columbia +River one hundred miles in December, 1792. He stopped at a +point he named Vancouver. Here the river Columbia is still a +quarter of a mile wide. From this point <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>Mount Hood is seen +about twenty leagues distant, which is probably a dependency +of the Stony Mountains. Accept my affectionate salutations.</p></div> + +<p>This was the last word Meriwether Lewis received from his chief. As +the latter finished it, he sat looking out of the window toward that +West which meant so much to him.</p> + +<p>He did not at first note the interruption of his reverie. Long ago he +had made public his announcement that the time of Thomas Jefferson +belonged to the public, and that he might be seen at any time by any +man. He hesitated now but a moment, therefore, when old Henry, his +faithful black, threw open the door and stated simply that there was +“a lady wantin’ to see Mistah Jeffahson.”</p> + +<p>“Who is she, Henry?” inquired the President of the United States +mildly. “I am somewhat busy today.”</p> + +<p>“’Tain’t no diff’rence, she say—she sho’ly want see Mistah +Jeffahson.”</p> + +<p>The tired old man smiled and shrugged his shoulders. A moment later +the persistent caller was ushered into the office of the nation’s +chief executive. He rose courteously to meet her.</p> + +<p>It was Theodosia Alston, whom he had known from her childhood. Mr. +Jefferson greeted her with his hand outstretched, and, her arm still +in his, led her to a seat.</p> + +<p>“My dear,” said he, “you will pardon our confusion here, I am sure. +There are many matters——”</p> + +<p>“I know it is an intrusion, Mr. Jefferson,” began <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span>Theodosia Alston +again, her face flushing swiftly. “But you are so good, so kind, so +great in your patience that we all take advantage of you. And yet you +are so tired,” she added impulsively, as she caught sight of his +haggard face.</p> + +<p>“I was not so fortunate as to find time for sleep last night.” He +smiled again with humorous, half twisted mouth.</p> + +<p>“Nor was I.”</p> + +<p>“Tut, tut! No, no, my dear, that sort of thing will not do.” He looked +at her in silence for some time. “Perhaps, my dear,” said he at last, +“you come regarding Captain Lewis?”</p> + +<p>“How did you know?” she exclaimed, startled.</p> + +<p>“Why should I not know?” He pushed his chair so close that he might +lay a hand upon her arm. “Listen, Theo, my child. I am an old man, and +I am your friend, and his also. I had need to be very blind had I not +known long ago what I did know. I am, perhaps, the only confidant of +Captain Lewis, and I repose in him confidences that I would venture to +no other man; but he is not the sort to speak of such matters. It is +only by virtue of exceptional circumstances, my dear, that I know the +story of you two.”</p> + +<p>She was looking straight into his face, her eyes mournful.</p> + +<p>“I was glad to send him away, sorely as I miss him. But then, you +said, you come to me about him?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, after he is gone—knowing all that you say—because I trust your +great kindness and your chivalry. I come to ask you to call him back! +Oh, Mr. Jefferson,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> were it any other man in the world but yourself I +had not dared come here; but you know my story and his. It is your +right to believe that he and I were—that is to say, we might have +been—ah, sir, how can I speak?”</p> + +<p>“You need not speak, my dear, I know.”</p> + +<p>“I shall be faithful to my husband, Mr. Jefferson.”</p> + +<p>The old man nodded.</p> + +<p>“Captain Lewis knows that also. He would be the last to wish it +otherwise. But, since it was his misfortune to set his regard upon one +so fair as yourself, and since fate goes so hard for a strong man like +him, then I must admit it needed strong medicine for his case. I sent +him away, yes. Would you ask him back—for any cause?”</p> + +<p>In turn she laid a small hand upon the President’s arm.</p> + +<p>“Only for himself—for that reason alone, Mr. Jefferson, and not to +change your plans—for himself, because you love him. Oh, sir, even +the greatest courts sometimes arrest their judgment if there is new +evidence to be introduced. At the last moment justice gives a +condemned man one more chance.”</p> + +<p>“What is it, Theodosia?” he said quietly. “I do not grasp all this.”</p> + +<p>“Able men say that this government cannot take advantage of the sale +of Louisiana to us by Napoleon—that our Constitution prevents our +taking over a foreign territory already populated to make into new +States of our own——”</p> + +<p>“Good, my learned counsel—say on!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p><p>“Forgive my weak wit—I only try to say this as I heard it, well and +plainly.”</p> + +<p>“As well as any man, my dear! Go on.”</p> + +<p>“Therefore, even if Captain Lewis does go forward, he can only fail at +the last. This is what is said by the Federalists, by your enemies.”</p> + +<p>“And perhaps by certain of my own party not Federalists—by Colonel +Aaron Burr, for instance!” Thomas Jefferson smiled grimly.</p> + +<p>“Yes!” She spoke firmly and with courage.</p> + +<p>“I cannot pause to inquire what my enemies say, my dear lady. But in +what way could this effect our friend, Captain Lewis? He is under +orders, on my errand.”</p> + +<p>“I saw him this very morning—I took my reputation in my hands—I +followed him—I urged him, I implored him to stop!”</p> + +<p>“Yes? And did he?”</p> + +<p>“Not for an instant. Ah, I see you smile! I might have known he would +not. He said that nothing but word from you could induce him to +hesitate for a moment.”</p> + +<p>“My dear young lady, I said to Captain Lewis that no report from any +source would cause me for an instant to doubt his loyalty to me. If +anything could shake him in his loyalty, it would be his regard for +you yourself; but since I trust his honor and your own, I do not fear +that such a conflict can ever occur!”</p> + +<p>She did not reply. After a time the President went on gently:</p> + +<p>“My dear, would you wish him to come back—would <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span>you condemn him +further to the tortures of the damned? And would you halt him while he +is trying to do his duty as a man and a soldier? What benefit to you?”</p> + +<p>She drew up proudly.</p> + +<p>“What benefit, indeed, to me? Do you think I would ask this for +myself? No, it was for <i>him</i>—it was for <i>his</i> welfare only that I +dared to come to you. And you will not hear new evidence?”</p> + +<p>But now she was speaking to Thomas Jefferson, the President of the +United States, man of affairs as well, man of firm will and clear-cut +decision.</p> + +<p>“Madam,” said he, coldly, “in this office we do a thing but once. Had +I condemned yonder young man to his death—and perhaps I have—I would +not now reconsider that decision. I would not speak so long as this +over it, did I not know and love you both—yes, and grieve over you +both; but what is written is written.”</p> + +<p>His giant hand fell lightly, but with firmness, on the desk at his +side. The inexorableness of a great will was present in the room as an +actual thing. Tears swam in her eyes.</p> + +<p>“You would not hear what was the actual cause of my wish for him——”</p> + +<p>“No, my dear! We have made our plans.”</p> + +<p>“There are other plans afoot these days, Mr. Jefferson.”</p> + +<p>“Tut, tut! Are you my enemy, too? Oh, yes, I know there are enemies +enough in wait for me and my administration on every side. Yes, I know +a plan—I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>know of many such. But one thing also I do know, madam, and +it is this—not all the enemies on this earth can alter me one iota in +this undertaking on which I have sent Captain Lewis. As against that +magnificent adventure there is nothing can be offered as an offset, +nothing that can halt it for an instant. No reward to him or me—nay, +no reward to any other human being—shall stop his advancement in that +purpose which he shares with me. If he fails, I fail with him—and all +my life as well!”</p> + +<p>She rose now, calm before the imperious quality of his nature, so +unlike his former gentleness.</p> + +<p>“You refuse, then, Mr. Jefferson? You will not reopen this case?”</p> + +<p>“I refuse nothing to you gladly, my dear lady. But you have seen +him—you have tested him. Did he turn back? Shall I, his friend and +his chief, halt him at such a time? Now that were the worst kindness +to him in the world. And I am convinced that you and I both plan only +kindness for him.”</p> + +<p>Suddenly he saw the tears in her eyes. At once he was back again, the +courteous gentleman.</p> + +<p>“Do not weep, Theodosia, my child,” said he. “Let me kiss you, as your +father or your grandfather would—one who holds you tenderly in his +heart. Forgive me that I pass sentence on you both, but you must +part—you must not ask him back. There now, my dear, do not weep, or +you will make me weep. Let me kiss you for him—and let us all go on +about our duties in the world. My dear, good-by! You must go.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>THE THRESHOLD OF THE WEST</h3> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">M</span>eriwether Lewis, having put behind him one set of duties, now +addressed himself to another, and did so with care and thoroughness. A +few of his men, a part of his outfitting, he found already assembled +at Harper’s Ferry, up the Potomac. Before sunset of the first day the +little band knew they had a leader.</p> + +<p>There was not a knife or a tomahawk of the entire equipment which he +himself did not examine—not a rifle which he himself did not +personally test. He went over the boxes and bales which had been +gathered here, and saw to their arrangement in the transport-wagons. +He did all this without bluster or officiousness, but with the quiet +care and thoroughness of the natural leader of men.</p> + +<p>In two days they were on their way across the Alleghanies. A few days +more of steady travel sufficed to bring them to Pittsburgh, the head +of navigation on the Ohio River, and at that time the American capital +in the upper valley of the West. At Pittsburgh Captain Lewis was to +build his boats, to complete the details of his equipment, to take on +additional men for <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span>his party—now to be officially styled the +Volunteers for the Discovery of the West. He lost no time in urging +forward the necessary work.</p> + +<p>The young adventurer found this inland town half maritime in its look. +Its shores were lined with commerce suited to a seaport. Schooners of +considerable tonnage lay at the wharfs, others were building in the +busy shipyards. The destination of these craft obviously was down the +Mississippi, to the sea. Here were vessels bound for the West Indies, +bound for Philadelphia, for New York, for Boston—carrying the +products of this distant and little-known interior.</p> + +<p>As he looked at this commerce of the great West, pondered its +limitations, saw its trend with the down-slant of the perpetual +roadway to the sea, there came to the young officer’s mind with +greater force certain arguments that had been advanced to him.</p> + +<p>He saw that here was the heart of America, realized how natural was +the insistence of all these hardy Western men upon the free use of the +Mississippi and its tributaries. He easily could agree with Aaron Burr +that, had the fleet of Napoleon ever sailed from Haiti—had Napoleon +ever done otherwise than to cede Louisiana to us—then these boats +from the Ohio and the Mississippi would at this very moment, perhaps, +be carrying armed men down to take New Orleans, as so often they had +threatened.</p> + +<p>There came, however, to his mind not the slightest thought of +alteration in his own plans. With him it was no question of what might +have been, but of what actually was. The cession by Napoleon had been +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>made, and Louisiana was ours. It was time to plot for expeditions, +not down the great river, but across it, beyond it, into that great +and unknown country that lay toward the farther sea.</p> + +<p>The keen zest of this vast enterprise came to him as a stimulus—the +feel of the new country was as the breath of his nostrils. His bosom +swelled with joy as he looked out toward that West which had so long +allured him—that West of which he was to be the discoverer. The +carousing riffraff of the wharfs, the flotsam and jetsam of the river +trade, were to him but passing phenomena. He shouldered his way among +them indifferently. He walked with a larger vision before his eyes.</p> + +<p>Now, too, he had news—good news, fortunate news, joyous news—none +less than the long-delayed answer of his friend, Captain William +Clark, to his proposal that he should associate himself with the +Volunteers for the Discovery of the West. Misspelled, scrawled, done +in the hieroglyphics which marked that remarkable gentleman, William +Clark’s letter carried joy to the heart of Meriwether Lewis. It +cemented one of the most astonishing partnerships ever known among +men, one of the most beautiful friendships of which history leaves +note. Let us give the strange epistle in Clark’s own spelling:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Dear Merne:</span></p> + +<p>Yours to hand touching uppon the Expedishon into the +Missourie Country, & I send this by special bote up the +river to mete you at Pts’brgh, at the Foarks. You convey a +moast welcome and appreciated invitation to join you in an +Enterprise conjenial to my Every thought and Desire. It will +in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span>all likelyhood require at least a year to make the +journey out and Return, but although that means certain +Sacrifises of a personal sort, I hold such far less than the +pleasure to enlist with you, wh. indeed I hold to be my duty +allso.</p> + +<p>I need not say how content I am to be associated with the +man moast of all my acquaintance apt to achieve Success in +an undertaking of so difficult and perlous nature. As you +know, it is in the wilderness men are moast sevearly tried, +and there we know a man. I have seen you so tried, and I +Know what you are. I am proud that you apeare to hold me and +my own qualities in like confident trust and belief, and I +shall hope to merit no alteration in your Judgment.</p> + +<p>There is no other man I would go with on such an +undertaking, nor consider it seriously, although the concern +of my family largely has been with things military and +adventurous, and we are not new to life among Savidges. Too +well I know the dangers of bad leadership in such affairs, +yes and my brother, the General, also, as the story of +Detroit and the upper Ohio country could prove. All of that +country should have been ours from the first, and only lack +of courage lost it so long to us.</p> + +<p>You are so kind as to offer me a place equal in command with +you—I accept not because of the Rank, which is no moving +consideration, eather for you or for me—but because I see +in the jenerosity of the man proposing such a division of +his own Honors, the best assurance of success.</p> + +<p>You will find me at or near the Falls of the Ohio awaiting +the arrival of your party, which I taik it will be in early +August or the Midel of that month.</p> + +<p>Pray convey to Mr. Jefferson my humble and obedient +respects, and thanks for this honor wh. I shall endeavor to +merit as best lies within my powers.</p> + +<p>With all affec’n, I remain,</p> + +<p class="left1">Your friend,</p> + +<p class="left3"><span class="smcap">Wm. Clark.</span></p> + +<p>P. S.—God alone knows how mutch this all may mean to You +and me, Merne—<span class="smcap">Will.</span></p></div> + +<p>Clark, then, was to meet him at the Falls of the Ohio, and he, too, +counseled haste. Lewis drove his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span>drunken, lazy workmen in the +shipyards as hard as he might, week after week, yet found six weeks +elapsed before at last he was in any wise fitted to set forth. The +delay fretted him, even though he received word from his chief bidding +him not to grieve over the possible loss of a season in his start, but +to do what he might and to possess his soul in patience and in +confidence.</p> + +<p>Recruits of proper sort for his purposes did not grow on trees, he +found, but he added a few men to his party now and then, picking them +slowly, carefully. One morning, while engaged in his duties of +supervising the work in progress at the shipyards, he had his +attention attracted to a youth of some seventeen or eighteen years, +who stood, cap in hand, at a little distance, apparently too timid to +accost him.</p> + +<p>“What is it, my son?” said he. “Did you wish to see me?”</p> + +<p>The boy advanced, smiling.</p> + +<p>“You do not know me, sir. My name is Shannon—George Shannon. I used +to know you when you were stationed here with the army. I was a boy +then.”</p> + +<p>“You are right—I remember you perfectly. So you are grown into a +strapping young man, I see!”</p> + +<p>The boy twirled his cap in his hands.</p> + +<p>“I want to go along with you, Captain,” said he shyly.</p> + +<p>“What? You would go with me—do you know what is our journey?”</p> + +<p>“No. I only hear that you are going up the Missouri, beyond St. Louis, +into new country. They say <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span>there are buffalo there, and Indians. ’Tis +too quiet here for me—I want to see the world with you.”</p> + +<p>The young leader, after his fashion, stood silently regarding the +other for a time. An instant served him.</p> + +<p>“Very well, George,” said he. “If your parents consent, you shall go +with me. Your pay will be such that you can save somewhat, and I trust +you will use it to complete your schooling after your return. There +will be adventure and a certain honor in our undertaking. If we come +back successful, I am persuaded that our country will not forget us.”</p> + +<p>And so that matter was completed. Strangely enough, as the future +proved, were the fortunes of these two to intermingle. From the first, +Shannon attached himself to his captain almost in the capacity of +personal attendant.</p> + +<p>At last the great bateau lay ready, launched from the docks and moored +alongside the wharf. Fifty feet long it was, with mast, tholes and +walking-boards for the arduous upstream work. It had received a part +of its cargo, and soon all was in readiness to start.</p> + +<p>On the evening of that day Lewis sat down to pen a last letter to his +chief. He wrote in the little office-room of the inn where he was +stopping, and for a time he did not note the presence of young +Shannon, who stood, as usual, silent until his leader might address +him.</p> + +<p>“What, is it, George?” he asked at length, looking up.</p> + +<p>“Someone waiting to see you, sir—they are in the parlor. They sent +me——”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p><p>“They? Who are they?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know, sir. She asked me to come for you.”</p> + +<p>“She. Who is she?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know, sir. She spoke to her father. They are in the room just +across the hall, sir.”</p> + +<p>The face of Meriwether Lewis was pale when presently he opened the +door leading to the apartment which had been indicated. He knew, or +thought he knew, who this must be. But why—why?</p> + +<p>The interior was dim. A single lamp of the inefficient sort then in +use served only to lessen the gloom. Presently, however, he saw +awaiting him the figure he had anticipated. Yes, it was she herself. +Almost his heart stood still.</p> + +<p>Theodosia Alston arose from the spot where she sat in the deeper +shadows, and came forward to him. He met her, his hands outstretched, +his pulse leaping eagerly in spite of his reproofs. He dreaded, yet +rejoiced.</p> + +<p>“Why are you here?” he asked at length.</p> + +<p>“My father and I are on a journey down the river to visit Mr. +Blennerhasset on his island. You know his castle there?”</p> + +<p>“Why is it that you always come to torment me the more? Another day +and I should have been gone!”</p> + +<p>“Torment you, sir?”</p> + +<p>“You rebuke me properly. I presume I should have courage to meet you +always—to speak with you—to look into your eyes—to take your hands +in mine. But I find it hard, terribly hard! Each time it is +worse—because <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span>each time I must leave you. Why did you not wait one +day?”</p> + +<p>She made no reply. He fought for his self-control.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Jefferson, how is he?” he demanded at length. “You left him +well?”</p> + +<p>“Unchangeable as flint. You said that only the order of your chief +could change your plans. I sought to gain that order—I went myself to +see Mr. Jefferson, that very day you started. He said that nothing +could alter his faith in you, and that nothing could alter the plan +you both had made. He would not call you back. He ordered me not to +attempt to do so; but I have broken the President’s command. You find +it hard! Do you think this is not hard for me also?”</p> + +<p>“These are strange words. What is your motive? What is it that you +plan? Why should you seek to stop me when I am trying to blot your +face out of my mind? Strange labor is that—to try to forget what I +hold most dear!”</p> + +<p>“You shall not leave my face behind you, Captain Lewis!” she said +suddenly.</p> + +<p>“What do you mean, Theodosia? What is it?”</p> + +<p>“You shall see me every night under the stars, Meriwether Lewis. I +will not let you go. I will not relinquish you!”</p> + +<p>He turned swiftly toward her, but paused as if caught back by some +mighty hand.</p> + +<p>“What is it?” he said once more, half in a whisper. “What do you mean? +Would you ruin me? Would you see me go to ruin?”</p> + +<p>“No! To the contrary, shall I allow you to hasten <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>into the usual ruin +of a man? If you go yonder, what will be the fate of Meriwether Lewis? +You have spoken beautifully to me at times—you have awakened some +feeling of what images a woman may make in a man’s heart. I have been +no more to you than any woman is to any man—the image of a dream. +But, that being so beautiful, ought I to allow you to turn it to ruin? +Shall I let you go down in savagery? Ah, if I thought I were +relinquishing you to that, this would be a heavy day for me!”</p> + +<p>“Can you fancy what all this means to me?” he broke out hoarsely.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I can fancy. And what for me? So much my feeling for you has +been—oh, call it what you like—admiration, affection, maternal +tenderness—I do not know what—but so much have I wished, so much +have I planned for your future in return for what you have given +me—ah, I do not dare tell you. I could not dare come here if I did +not know that I was never to see or speak to you again. It tears my +heart from my bosom that I must say these things to you. I have risked +all my honor in your hands. Is there no reward for that? Is my +recompense to be only your assertion that I torment you, that I +torture you? What! Is there no torture for me as well? The thought +that I have done this covertly, secretly—what do you think that costs +me?”</p> + +<p>“Your secret is absolutely safe with me, Theodosia. No, it is not a +secret! We have sworn that neither of us would lay a secret upon the +other. I swear that to you once more.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p><p>“And yet you upbraid me when I say I cannot give you up to any fate +but that of happiness and success—oh, not with me, for that is beyond +us two—it is past forever. But happiness——”</p> + +<p>“There are some words that burn deep,” he said slowly. “I know that I +was not made for happiness.”</p> + +<p>“Does a woman’s wish mean nothing to you? Have I no appeal for you?”</p> + +<p>Something like a sob was torn from his bosom.</p> + +<p>“You can speak thus with me?” he said huskily. “If you cannot leave me +happiness, can you not at least leave me partial peace of mind?”</p> + +<p>She stood slightly swaying, silent.</p> + +<p>“And you say you will not relinquish me, you will not let me go to +that fate which surely is mine? You say you will not let me be savage? +I say I am too nearly savage now. Let me go—let me go yonder into the +wilderness, where I may be a gentleman!”</p> + +<p>He saw her movement as she turned, heard her sigh.</p> + +<p>“Sometimes,” she said, “I have thought it worth a woman’s life thrown +away that a strong man may succeed. Failure and sacrifice a woman may +offer—not much more. But it is as my father told me!”</p> + +<p>“He told you what?”</p> + +<p>“That only chivalry would ever make you forget your duty—that you +never could be approached through your weakness, but only through your +strength, through your honor. I cannot approach you through your +strength, and I would not approach you through your weakness, even if +I could. No! Wait. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span>Perhaps some day it will all be made clear for +both of us, so that we may understand. Yes, this is torture for us +both!”</p> + +<p>He heard the soft rustle of her gown, her light footfall as she +passed; and once more he was alone.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>THE TAMING OF PATRICK GASS</h3> + +<p style="float: left; font-size: 100%; line-height: 80%; margin-top: 0;">“</p><p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">S</span>hannon, go get the men!”</p> + +<p>It was midnight. For more than an hour Meriwether Lewis had sat, his +head drooped, in silence.</p> + +<p>“We are going to start?” Shannon’s face lightened eagerly. “We’ll be +off at sunup?”</p> + +<p>“Before that. Get the men—we’ll start now! I’ll meet you at the +wharf.”</p> + +<p>Eager enough, Shannon hastened away on his midnight errand. Within an +hour every man of the little party was at the water front, ready for +departure. They found their leader walking up and down, his head bent, +his hands behind him.</p> + +<p>It was short work enough, the completion of such plans as remained +unfinished. The great keel-boat lay completed and equipped at the +wharf. The men lost little time in stowing such casks and bales as +remained unshipped. Shannon stepped to his chief.</p> + +<p>“All’s aboard, sir,” said he. “Shall we cast off?”</p> + +<p>Without a word Lewis nodded and made his way to his place in the boat. +In the darkness, without a shout <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>or a cheer to mark its passing, the +expedition was launched on its long journey.</p> + +<p>Slowly the boat passed along the waterfront of Pittsburgh town. Here +rose gauntly, in the glare of torch or camp fire, the mast of some +half-built schooner. Houseboats were drawn up or anchored alongshore, +long pirogues lay moored or beached, or now and again a giant +broadhorn, already partially loaded with household goods, common +carrier for that human flood passing down the great waterway, stood +out blacker than the shadows in which it lay.</p> + +<p>Here and there camp fires flickered, each the center of a ribald group +of the hardy rivermen. Through the night came sounds of roistering, +songs, shouts. Arrested, pent, dammed up, the lusty life of that great +waterway leading into the West and South scarce took time for sleep.</p> + +<p>The boat slipped on down, now crossing a shaft of light flung on the +water from some lamp or fire, now blending with the ghostlike shadows +which lay in the moonless night. It passed out of the town itself, and +edged into the shade of the forest that swept continuously for so many +leagues on ahead.</p> + +<p>“Hello, there!” called a voice through the darkness, after a time. +“Who goes there?”</p> + +<p>The splash of a sweep had attracted the attention of someone on shore. +The light of a camp fire showed.</p> + +<p>Every one in the boat looked at the leader, but none vouchsafed a +reply to the hail.</p> + +<p>“Ahoy there, the boat!” insisted the same voice.</p> + +<p>“Shall I fire on yez to make yez answer a civil question? <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>Come ashore +wance—I can lick the best of yez in three minutes, or me name’s not +Patrick Gass!”</p> + +<p>The captain of the boat turned slowly in his seat, casting a glance +over his silent crew.</p> + +<p>“Set in!” said he, sharply and shortly.</p> + +<p>Without a word they obeyed, and with oar and steering-sweep the great +craft slowly swung inshore.</p> + +<p>Lewis stepped from the boat, and, not waiting to see whether he was +followed—as he was by all of his men—strode on up the bank into the +circle of light made by the camp fire. About the fire lay a dozen or +more men of the hardest of the river type, which was saying quite +enough; for of all the lawless and desperate characters of the +frontier, none have ever surpassed in reckless audacity and truculence +the men of the old boat trade of the Ohio and the Mississippi.</p> + +<p>These fellows lay idly looking at Lewis as he entered the light, not +troubling to accost him.</p> + +<p>“Who hailed us?” demanded the latter shortly.</p> + +<p>“Begorrah, ’twas me,” said a short, strongly built man, stepping +forward from the other side of the fire.</p> + +<p>Clad in loose shirt and trousers, like most of his comrades, he showed +a powerful man, a shock of reddish hair falling over his eyes, a +bull-like neck rising above his open shirt in such fashion that the +size of his shoulder muscles might easily be seen.</p> + +<p>“’Twas me hailed yez, and what of it?”</p> + +<p>“That is what I came ashore to learn,” said Meriwether Lewis. “We are +about our business. What concern is that of yours? I am here to +learn.”</p> + +<p>“Yez can learn, if ye’re so anxious,” replied the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>other. “’Tis me +have got three drinks of Monongahaly in me that says I can whip you or +anny man of your boat. And if that aint cause for ye to come ashore, +’tis no fighting man ye are, an’ I’ll say that to your face!”</p> + +<p>It was the accepted fashion of challenge known anywhere along two +thousand miles of waterway at that time, in a country where physical +prowess and readiness to fight were the sole tests of distinction. Woe +to the man who evaded such an issue, once it was offered to him!</p> + +<p>The speaker had stepped close to Lewis—so close that the latter did +not need to advance a foot. Instead, he held his ground, and the +challenger, accepting this as a sign of willingness for battle, rushed +at him, with the evident intent of a rough-and-tumble grapple after +the fashion of his kind. To his surprise, he was held off by the +leveled forearm of his opponent, rigid as a bar against his throat.</p> + +<p>At this rebuff he roared like a bull, and breaking back rushed in once +more, his giant arms flailing. Lewis swung back half a step, and then, +so quickly that none saw the blow, but only its result was visible, he +shifted on his feet, leaned into his thrust, and smote the joyous +challenger so fell a stroke in the throat as laid him quivering and +helpless. The brief fight was ended all too soon to suit the wishes of +the spectators, used to more prolonged and bloodier encounters.</p> + +<p>A sort of gasp, a half roar of surprise and anger, came from the group +upon the ground. Some of the party rose to their feet menacingly. They +met the silent front of the boat party, the clicking of whose +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>well-oiled rifle-locks offered the most serious of warnings.</p> + +<p>The sudden appearance of these visitors, so silent and so prompt—the +swift act of their leader, without threat, without warning—the +instant readiness of the others to back their leader’s +initiative—caught every one of these rude fighting men in the sudden +grip of surprise. They hesitated.</p> + +<p>“I am no fighting man,” said Meriwether Lewis, turning to them; “yet +neither may I be insulted by any lout who chooses to call me ashore to +thrash him. Do you think that an officer of the army has no better +business than that? Who are you that would stop us?”</p> + +<p>The group fell back muttering, lacking concerted action. What might +have occurred in case they had reached their arms was prevented by the +action of the party of the first part in this <i>rencontre</i>—of the +second part, perhaps, he might better have been called. The fallen +warrior sat up, rubbing his throat; he struggled to his knees, and at +length stood. There was something of rude river chivalry about him, +after all.</p> + +<p>“An officer, did ye say?” said he. “Oh, wirra! What have I done now, +and me a soldier! But ye done it fair! And ye niver wance gouged me +nor jumped on me whin I was down! Begorrah, I felt both me eyes to see +if they was in! Ye done it fair, and ye’re an officer and a gintleman, +whoever ye be. I’d like to shake hands with ye!”</p> + +<p>“I am not shaking hands with ruffians who insult travelers,” Captain +Lewis sternly rejoined; but he saw <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>the crestfallen look which swept +over the strong face of the other. “There, man,” said he, “since you +seem to mean well!”</p> + +<p>He shook hands with his opponent, who, stung by the rebuke, now began +to sniffle.</p> + +<p>“Sor,” said he, “I am no ruffian. I am a soldier meself, and on me way +to join me company at Kaskasky, down below. Me time was out awhile +back, and I came East to the States to have a bit av a fling before I +enlisted again. Now, what money I haven’t give to me parents I’ve +spint like a man. I have had me fling for awhile, and I’m goin’ back +to sign on again. Sor, I am a sergeant and a good wan, though I do say +it. Me record is clean. I am Patrick Gass, first sergeant of the Tinth +Dragoons, the same now stationed at Kaskasky. Though ye are not in +uniform, I know well enough ye are an officer. Sor, I ask yer +pardon—’twas only the whisky made me feel sportin’ like at the time, +do ye mind?”</p> + +<p>“Gass, Patrick Gass, you said?”</p> + +<p>“Yis, sor, of the Tinth. Barrin’ me love for fightin’ I am a good +soldier. There are stripes on me sleeves be rights, but me old coat’s +hangin’ in the barracks down below.”</p> + +<p>Lewis stood looking curiously at the man before him, the power of +whose grip he had felt in his own. He cast an eye over his erect +figure, his easy and natural dropping into the position of a soldier.</p> + +<p>“You say the Tenth?” said he briefly. “You have been with the colors? +Look here, my man, do you want to serve?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p><p>“I am going right back to Kaskasky for it, sor.”</p> + +<p>“Why not enlist with us? I need men. We are off for the West, up the +Missouri—for a long trip, like enough. You seem a well-built man, and +you have seen service. I know men when I see them. I want men of +courage and good temper. Will you go?”</p> + +<p>“I could not say, sor. I would have to ask leave at Kaskasky. I gave +me word I’d come back after I’d had me fling here in the East, ye +see.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll take care of that. I have full authority to recruit among +enlisted men.”</p> + +<p>“Excuse me, sor, ye are sayin’ ye are goin’ up the Missouri? Then I +know yez—yez are the Captain Lewis that has been buildin’ the big +boat the last two months up at the yards—Captain Lewis from +Washington.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, and from the Ohio country before then—and Kentucky, too. I am +to join Captain Clark at the Point of Rocks on the Ohio. I need +another oar. Come, my man, we are on our way. Two minutes ought to be +enough for you to decide.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll need not the half of two!” rejoined Patrick Gass promptly. “Give +me leave of my captain, and I am with yez! There is nothin’ in the +world I’d liever see than the great plains and the buffalo. ’Tis fond +of travel I am, and I’d like to see the ind of the world before I +die.”</p> + +<p>“You will come as near seeing the end of it with us as anywhere else I +know,” rejoined Lewis quietly. “Get your war-bag and come aboard.”</p> + +<p>In this curious fashion Patrick Gass of the army—later <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>one of the +journalists of the expedition, and always one of its most faithful and +efficient members—signed his name on the rolls of the Lewis and Clark +expedition.</p> + +<p>There was not one of the frontiersmen in the boat who had any comment +to make upon any phase of the transaction; indeed, it seemed much in +the day’s work to them. But from that instant every man in the boat +knew he had a leader who could be depended upon for prompt and +efficient action in any emergency; and from that moment, also, their +leader knew he could depend on his men.</p> + +<p>“I have nothing to complain of,” said Patrick Gass, addressing his new +friends impartially, as he shifted his belongings to suit him and took +his place at a rowing seat. “I have nothing to complain of. I’ve been +sayin’ I would like to have one more rale fight before I enlisted—the +army is too tame for a fellow of rale spirit. None o’ thim at the camp +yonder, where I was two days, would take it on with me after the first +day. I was fair longin’ for something to interest me—and be jabers, I +found it! Now I am continted to ind me vacation and come back to the +monothony of business life.”</p> + +<p>The boat advanced steadily enough thereafter throughout the night. +They pulled ashore at dawn, and, after the fashion of experienced +travelers, were soon about the business of the morning meal.</p> + +<p>The leader of the party drew apart for the morning plunge which was +his custom. Cover lacking on the bare bar where they had landed, he +was not fully out <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span>of sight when at length, freshened by his plunge, +he stood drying himself for dressing. Unconsciously, his arm extended, +he looked for all the world the very statue of the young Apoxyomenos +of the Vatican—the finest figure of a man that the art of antiquity +has handed down to us.</p> + +<p>As that smiling youth out of the past stood, scraper in hand, drying +himself after the games, so now stood this young American, type of a +new race, splendid as the Greeks themselves in the immortal beauty of +life. His white body shining in the sun, every rolling muscle plainly +visible—even that rare muscle over the hip beloved of the ancients, +but now forgotten of sculptors, because rarely seen on a man today—so +comely was he, so like a god in his clean youth, that Patrick Gass, +unhampered by backwardness himself, turned to his new companions, whom +already he addressed each by his first name.</p> + +<p>“George,” said he to young Shannon, “George, saw ye ever the like of +yon? What a man! Lave I had knowed he could strip like yon, niver +would I have taken the chance I did last night. ’Tis wonder he didn’t +kill me—in which case I’d niver have had me job. The Lord loves us +Irish, anny way you fix it!”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>CAPTAIN WILLIAM CLARK</h3> + +<p style="float: left; font-size: 100%; line-height: 80%; margin-top: 0;">“</p><p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">W</span>ill!”</p> + +<p>“Merne!”</p> + +<p>The two young men gripped hands as the great bateau swung inshore at +the Point of Rocks on the Kentucky side of the Ohio. They needed not +to do more, these two. The face of each told the other what he felt. +Their mutual devotion, their generosity and unselfishness, their +unflagging unity of purpose, their perfect manly comradeship—what +wonder so many have called the story of these two more romantic than +romance itself?</p> + +<p>“It has been long since we met, Will,” said Meriwether Lewis. “I have +been eating my heart out up at Pittsburgh. I got your letter, and glad +enough I was to have it. I had been fearing that I would have to go on +alone. Now I feel as if we already had succeeded. I cannot tell +you—but I don’t need to try.”</p> + +<p>“And you, Merne,” rejoined William Clark—Captain William Clark, if +you please, border fighter, leader of men, one of a family of leaders +of men, tall, gaunt, red-headed, blue-eyed, smiling, himself a +splendid figure of a man—“you, Merne, are a great man now, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>famous +there in Washington! Mr. Jefferson’s right-hand man—we hear of you +often across the mountains. I have been waiting for you here, as +anxious as yourself.”</p> + +<p>“The water is low,” complained Lewis, “and a thousand things have +delayed us. Are you ready to start?”</p> + +<p>“In ten minutes—in five minutes. I will have my boy York go up and +get my rifle and my bags.”</p> + +<p>“Your brother, General Clark, how is he?”</p> + +<p>William Clark shrugged with a smile which had half as much sorrow as +mirth in it.</p> + +<p>“The truth is, Merne, the general’s heart is broken. He thinks that +his country has forgotten him.”</p> + +<p>“Forgotten him? From Detroit to New Orleans—we owe it all to George +Rogers Clark. It was he who opened the river from Pittsburgh to New +Orleans. He’ll not need, now, to be an ally of France again. Once more +a member of your family will be in at the finding of a vast new +country!”</p> + +<p>“Merne, I’ve sold my farm. I got ten thousand dollars for my +place—and so I am off with you, not with much of it left in my +pockets, but with a clean bill and a good conscience, and some of the +family debts paid. I care not how far we go, or when we come back. I +thank Mr. Jefferson for taking me on with you. ’Tis the gladdest time +in all my life!”</p> + +<p>“We are share and share alike, Will,” said his friend Lewis, soberly. +“Tell me, can we get beyond the Mississippi this fall, do you think?”</p> + +<p>“Doubtful,” said Clark. “The Spanish of the valley <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>are not very well +reconciled to this Louisiana sale, and neither are the French. They +have been holding all that country in partnership, each people afraid +of the other, and both showing their teeth to us. But I hear the +commission is doing well at St. Louis, and I presume the transfer will +be made this fall or winter. After that they cannot stop us from going +on. Tell me, have you heard anything of Colonel Burr’s plan? There +have come new rumors of the old attempt to separate the West from the +government at Washington, and he is said to have agents scattered from +St. Louis to New Orleans.”</p> + +<p>He did not note the sudden flush on his friend’s face—indeed, gave +him no time to answer, but went on, absorbed in his own executive +details.</p> + +<p>“What sort of men have you in your party, Merne?”</p> + +<p>“Only good ones, I think. Young Shannon and an army sergeant by the +name of Gass, Patrick Gass—they should be very good men. I brought on +Collins from Maryland and Pete Weiser from Pennsylvania, also good +stuff, I think. McNeal, Potts, Gibson—I got those around Carlisle. We +need more men.”</p> + +<p>“I have picked out a few here,” said Clark. “You know Kentucky breeds +explorers. I have a good blacksmith, Shields, and Bill Bratton is +another blacksmith—either can tinker a gun if need be. Then I have +John Coalter, an active, strapping chap, and the two Fields boys, whom +I know to be good men; and Charlie Floyd, Nate Pryor, and a couple of +others—Warner and Whitehouse. We should get the rest at the forts +around St. Louis. I want to take my boy <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>York along—a negro is always +good-natured under hardship, and a laugh now and then will not hurt +any of us.”</p> + +<p>Lewis nodded assent.</p> + +<p>“Your judgment of men is as good as mine, Will. But come, it is +September, and the leaves are falling. All my men have the fall hunt +in their blood—they will start for any place at any moment. Let us +move. Suppose you take the boat on down, and let me go across, +horseback, to Kaskaskia. I have some business there, and I will try +for a few more recruits. We must have fifty men.”</p> + +<p>“Nothing shall stop us, Merne, and we cannot start too soon. I want to +see fresh grass every night for a year. But you—how can you be +content to punish yourself for so long? For me, I am half Indian; but +I expected to have heard long ago that you were married and settled +down as a Virginia squire, raising tobacco and negroes, like anyone +else. Tell me, how about that old affair of which you once used to +confide to me when we were soldiering together here, years back? ’Twas +a fair New York maid, was it not? From what you said I fancied her +quite without comparison, in your estimate, at least. Yet here you +are, vagabonding out into a country where you may be gone for +years—or never come back at all, for all we know. Have a care, +man—pretty girls do not wait!”</p> + +<p>As he spoke, so strange a look passed over his friend’s face that +William Clark swiftly put out a hand.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p><p>“What is it, Merne? Pardon me! Did she—not wait?”</p> + +<p>His companion looked at him gravely.</p> + +<p>“She married, something like three years ago. She is the wife of Mr. +Alston, a wealthy planter of the Carolinas, a friend of her father and +a man of station. A good marriage for her—for him—for both.”</p> + +<p>The sadness of his face spoke more than his words to his warmest +friend, and left them both silent for a time. William Clark ceased +breaking bark between his fingers and flipping away the pieces.</p> + +<p>“Well, in my own case,” said he at length, “I have no ties to cut. +’Tis as well—we shall have no faces of women to trouble us on our +trails out yonder. They don’t belong there, Merne—the ways of the +trappers are best. But we must not talk too much of this,” he added. +“I’ll see you yet well settled down as a Virginia squire—your white +hair hanging down on your shoulders and a score of grandchildren about +your knees to hamper you.”</p> + +<p>William Clark meant well—his friend knew that; so now he smiled, or +tried to smile.</p> + +<p>“Merne,” the red-headed one went on, throwing an arm across his +friend’s shoulders, “pass over this affair—cut it out of your heart. +Believe me, believe me, the friendship of men is the only one that +lasts. We two have eaten from the same pannikin, slept under the same +bear-robe before now—we still may do so. And look at the adventures +before us!”</p> + +<p>“You are a boy, Will,” said Meriwether Lewis, actually smiling now, +“and I am glad you are and always <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>will be; because, Will, I never was +a boy—I was born old. But now,” he added sharply, as he rose, “a +pleasant journey to us both—and the longer the better!”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3>UNDER THREE FLAGS</h3> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">T</span>he day was but beginning for the young American republic. All the air +was vibrant with the passion of youth and romance. Yonder in the West +there might be fame and fortune for any man with courage to adventure. +The world had not yet settled down to inexorable grooves of life, from +which no human soul might fight its way out save at cost of sweetness +and content and hope. The chance of one man might still equal that of +another—yonder, in that vast new world along the Mississippi, beyond +the Mississippi, more than a hundred years ago.</p> + +<p>Into that world there now pressed a flowing, seething, restless mass, +a new population seeking new avenues of hope and life, of adventure +and opportunity. Riflemen, axmen, fighting men, riding men, boatmen, +plowmen—they made ever out and on, laughing the Cossack laugh at the +mere thought of any man or thing withstanding them.</p> + +<p>Over this new world, alert, restless, full of Homeric youth, full of +the lust of life and adventure, floated three flags. The old war of +France and Spain still smoldered along the great waterway into the +South. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span>The flag of Great Britain had withdrawn itself to the North. +The flag of our republic had not yet advanced.</p> + +<p>Those who made the Western population at that time cared little enough +about flags or treaty rights. They concerned themselves rather with +possession. Let any who liked observe the laws. The strong made their +own laws from day to day, and wrote them in one general codex of +adventure and full-blooded, roistering life. The world was young. Buy +land? No, why buy it, when taking it was so much more simple and +delightful?</p> + +<p>Based on this general lust of conquest, this Saxon zeal for new +territories, must have been that inspiration of Thomas Jefferson in +his venture of the far Northwest. He saw there the splendid vision of +his ideal republic. He saw there a citizenry no longer riotous and +roistering, not yet frenzied or hysterical, but strong, sober, and +constant. His was a glorious vision. Would God we had fully realized +his dream!</p> + +<p>There were three flags afloat here or there in the Western country +then, and none knew what land rightly belonged under any of the three. +Indeed, over the heart of that region now floated all the three +banners at the same time—that of Spain, passing but still proud, for +a generation actual governor if not actual owner of all the country +beyond the Mississippi, so far as it had any government at all; that +of France, owner of the one great seaport, New Orleans, settler of the +valley for a generation; and that of the new republic only just +arriving into the respect of men either of the East or the West—a +republic which had <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span>till recently exacted respect chiefly through the +stark deadliness of its fighting and marching men.</p> + +<p>It was a splendid game in which these two boys, Meriwether Lewis and +William Clark—they scarcely were more than boys—now were entering. +And with the superb unconsciousness and self-trust of youth, they +played it with dash and confidence, never doubting their success.</p> + +<p>The prediction of William Clark none the less came true. In this +matter of flags, autocratic Spain was not disposed to yield. De +Lassus, Spanish commandant for so many years, would not let the young +travelers go beyond St. Louis, even so far as Charette. He must be +sure that his country—which, by right or not, he had ruled so +long—had not only been sold by Spain to France, but that the cession +had been duly confirmed; and, furthermore, he must be sure that the +cession by France to the United States had also been concluded +formally.</p> + +<p>Traders and trappers had been passing through from the plains country, +yes—but this was a different matter. Here was a flotilla under a +third flag—it must not pass. Spanish official dignity was not thus to +be shaken, not to be hurried. All must wait until the formalities had +been concluded.</p> + +<p>This delay meant the loss of the entire winter. The two young leaders +of the expedition were obliged to make the best of it they could.</p> + +<p>Clark formed an encampment in the timbered country across the +Mississippi from St. Louis, and soon had his men comfortably ensconced +in cabins of their <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>own building. Meanwhile he picked up more men +around the adjacent military posts—Ordway and Howard and Frazer of +the New England regiment; Cruzatte, Labiche, Lajeunesse, Drouillard +and other voyageurs for watermen. They made a hardy and efficient band.</p> + +<p>Upon Captain Lewis devolved most of the scientific work of the +expedition. It was necessary for him to spend much time in St. Louis, +to complete his store of instruments, to extend his own studies in +scientific matters. Perhaps, after all, the success of the expedition +was furthered by this delay upon the border.</p> + +<p>Twenty-nine men they had on the expedition rolls by spring—forty-five +in all, counting assistants who were not officially enrolled. Their +equipment for the entire journey out and back, of more than two years +in duration, was to cost them not more than twenty-five hundred +dollars. A tiny army, a meager equipment, for the taking of the +richest empire of the world!</p> + +<p>But now this army of a score and a half of men was to witness the +lowering before it of two of the greatest flags then known to the +world. It already had seen the retirement of that of Great Britain. +The wedge which Burr and Merry and Yrujo had so dreaded was now about +to be driven home. The country must split apart—Great Britain must +fall back to the North—these other powers, France and Spain, must +make way to the South and West.</p> + +<p>The army of the new republic, under two loyal boys for leaders, +pressed forward, not with drums or banners, not with the roll of +kettledrums, not with the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>pride and circumstance of glorious war. The +soldiers of its ranks had not even a uniform—they were clad in +buckskin and linsey, leather and fur. They had no trained fashion of +march, yet stood shoulder and shoulder together well enough. They were +not drilled into the perfection of trained soldiers, perhaps, but each +could use his rifle, and knew how far was one hundred yards.</p> + +<p>The boats were coming down with furs from the great West—from the +Omahas, the Kaws, the Osages. Keel boats came up from the lower river, +mastering a thousand miles and more of that heavy flood to bring back +news from New Orleans. Broadhorns and keel-boats and sailboats and +river pirogues passed down.</p> + +<p>The strange, colorful life of the little capital of the West went on +eagerly. St. Louis was happy; Detroit was glum—the fur trade had been +split in half. Great Britain had lost—the furs now went out down the +Mississippi instead of down the St. Lawrence. A world was in the +making and remaking; and over that disturbed and divided world there +still floated the three rival flags.</p> + +<p>Five days before Christmas of 1803, the flag of France fluttered down +in the old city of New Orleans. They had dreaded the fleet of Great +Britain at New Orleans—had hoped for the fleet of France. They got a +fleet of Americans in flatboats—rude men with long rifles and +leathern garments, who came under paddle and oar, and not under sail.</p> + +<p>Laussat was the last French commandant in the valley. De Lassus, the +Spaniard, holding onto his dignity <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>up the Missouri River beyond St. +Louis, still clung to the sovereignty that Spain had deserted. And +across the river, in a little row of log cabins, lay the new army with +the new flag—an army of twenty-nine men, backed by twenty-five +hundred dollars of a nation’s hoarded war gold!</p> + +<p>It was a time for hope or for despair—a time for success or +failure—a time for loyalty or for treason. And that army of +twenty-nine men in buckskin altered the map of the world, the history +of a vast continent.</p> + +<p>While Meriwether Lewis gravely went about his scientific studies, and +William Clark merrily went about his dancing with the gay St. Louis +belles, when not engaged in drilling his men beyond the river, the +winter passed. Spring came. The ice ceased to run in the river, the +geese honked northward in millions, the grass showed green betimes.</p> + +<p>The men in Clark’s encampment were almost mutinous with lust for +travel. But still the authorities had not completed their formalities; +still the flag of Spain floated over the crossbars of the gate of the +stone fortress, last stronghold of Spain in the valley of our great +river.</p> + +<p>March passed, and April. Not until the 9th of May, in the year 1804, +were matters concluded to suit the punctilio of France and Spain +alike. Now came the assured word that the republic of the United +States intended to stand on the Louisiana purchase, Constitution or no +Constitution—that the government purposed to take over the land which +it had bought. On this point Mr. Jefferson was firm. De Lassus yielded +now.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p><p>On that May morning the soldiers of Spain manning the fortifications +of the old post stood at parade when the drums of the Americans were +heard. One company of troops, under command of Captain Stoddard, +represented our army of occupation. Our real army of invasion was that +in buckskin and linsey and leather—twenty-nine men; whose captain, +Meriwether Lewis, was to be our official representative at the +ceremony of transfer.</p> + +<p>De Lassus choked with emotion as he handed over the keys and the +archives which so long had been under his charge.</p> + +<p>“Sir,” said he, addressing the commander, “I speak for France as well +as for Spain. I hand over to you the title from France, as I hand over +to you the rule from Spain. Henceforth both are for you. I salute you, +gentlemen!”</p> + +<p>With the ruffle of the few American drums the transfer was gravely +acknowledged. The flag of Spain slowly dropped from the staff where it +had floated. That of France took its place, and for one day floated by +courtesy over old St. Louis. On the morrow arose a strange new +flag—the flag of the United States. It was supported by one company +of regulars and by the little army of joint command—the army of Lewis +and Clark—twenty-nine enlisted men in leather!</p> + +<p>“Time now, at last!” said William Clark to his friend. “Time for us to +say farewell! Boats—three of them—are waiting, and my men are +itching to see the buffalo plains. What is the latest news in the +village, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span>Merne?” he added. “I’ve not been across there for two +weeks.”</p> + +<p>“News enough,” said Meriwether Lewis gravely. “I just have word of the +arrival in town of none other than Colonel Aaron Burr.”</p> + +<p>“The Vice-President of the United States! What does he here? Tell me, +is he bound down the river? Is there anything in all this talk I have +heard about Colonel Burr? Is he alone?”</p> + +<p>“No. I wish he were alone. Will, she is with him—his daughter, Mrs. +Alston!”</p> + +<p>“Well, what of that? Oh, I know—I know, but why should you meet?”</p> + +<p>“How can we help meeting here in the society of this little town, +whose people are like one family? They have been invited by Mr. +Chouteau to come to his house—I also am a guest there. Will, what +shall I do? It torments me!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, tut, tut!” said light-hearted William Clark. “What shall you do? +Why, in the first place, pull the frown from your face, Merne. Now, +this young lady forsakes her husband, travels—with her father, to be +sure, but none the less she travels—along the same trail taken by a +certain young man down the Ohio, up the Mississippi, here to St. +Louis. Should you call that a torment? Not I! I should flatter myself +over it. A torment? Should you call the flowers that change in +sweetness as we ride along through the wood a torment? Let them beware +of me! I am no respecter of fortune when it comes to a pretty face, my +friend. It is mine if it is here, and if I may <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>kiss it—don’t rebuke +me, Merne! I am full of the joy of life. Woman—the nearest woman—to +call her a torment! And you a soldier! I don’t blame them. Torment +you? Yes, they will, so long as you allow it. Then don’t allow it!”</p> + +<p>“You preach very well, Will. Of course, I know you don’t practise what +you preach—who does?”</p> + +<p>“Well, perhaps! But, seriously, why take life so hard, Merne? Why +don’t you relax—why don’t you swim with the current for a time? We +live but once. Tell me, do you think there was but one woman made for +each of us men in all the world? My faith, if that be true, I have had +more than my share, I fear, as I have passed along! But even when it +comes to marrying and settling down to hoeing an acre of corn-land and +raising a shoat or two for the family—tell me, Merne, what woman does +a man marry? Doesn’t he marry the one at hand—the one that is ready +and waiting? Do you think fortune would always place the one woman in +the world ready for the one man at the one time, just when the hoeing +and the shoat-raising was to the fore? It is absurd, man! Nature dares +not take such chances—and does not.”</p> + +<p>Lewis did not answer his friend’s jesting argument.</p> + +<p>“Listen, Merne,” Clark went on. “The memory of a kiss is better than +the memory of a tear. No, listen, Merne! The print of a kiss is sweet +as water of a spring when you are athirst. And the spring shows none +the worse for the taste of heaven it gave you. Lips and water +alike—they tell no tales. They are goods the gods gave us as part of +life. But the great <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span>thirst—the great thirst of a man for power, for +deeds, for danger, for adventure, for accomplishment—ah, that is +ours, and that is harder to slake, I am thinking! A man’s deeds are +his life. They tell the tale.”</p> + +<p>“His deeds! Yes, you are right, they do, indeed, tell the tale. Let us +hope the reckoning will stand clean at last.”</p> + +<p>“Merne, you are a soldier, not a preacher.”</p> + +<p>“Will, you are neither—you are only a boy!”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h3>THE RENT IN THE ARMOR</h3> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">A</span>aron Burr came to St. Louis in the spring of 1804 as much in +desperation as with definite plans. Matters were going none too well +for him. All the time he was getting advices from the lower country, +where lay the center of his own audacious plans; but the thought of +the people was directed westward, up the Missouri.</p> + +<p>The fame of the Lewis and Clark expedition now had gathered volume. +Constitution or no Constitution, the purchase of Louisiana had been +completed, the transfer had been formally made. The American wedge was +driving on through. If ever he was to do anything for his own +enterprise, it was now high time.</p> + +<p>Burr’s was a mind to see to the core of any problem in statecraft. He +knew what this sudden access of interest in the West indicated, so far +as his plans were concerned. It must be stopped—else it would be too +late for any dream of Aaron Burr for an empire of his own.</p> + +<p>His resources were dwindling. He needed funds for the many secret +agents in his employ—needed yet more funds for the purchase and +support of his lands <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>in the South. And the minister of Great Britain +had given plain warning that unless this expedition up the Missouri +could be stopped, no further aid need be expected from him.</p> + +<p>Little by little Burr saw hope slip away from him. True, Captain Lewis +was still detained by his duties among the Osage Indians, a little way +out from the city; but the main expedition had actually started.</p> + +<p>William Clark, occupied with the final details, did not finally get +his party under way until five days after the formal transfer of the +new territory of Louisiana to our flag, and three days after Burr’s +arrival. At last, however, on the 14th of May, the three boats had +left St. Louis wharf, with their full complement of men and the last +of the supplies aboard for the great voyage. Captain Clark, ever +light-hearted and careless of his spelling-book, if not of his rifle, +says it was “a jentle brease” which aided the oars and the square-sail +as they started up the river.</p> + +<p>Assuredly the bark of Aaron Burr was sailing under no propitious +following wind. Distracted, he paced up and down his apartment in the +home where he was a guest, preoccupied, absorbed, almost ready to +despair. He spoke but little, but time and again he cast an estimating +eye upon the young woman who accompanied him.</p> + +<p>“You are ill, Theodosia!” he exclaimed at last “Come, come, my +daughter, this will not do! Have you no arts of the toilet that can +overcome the story of your megrims? Shall I get you some sort of +bitter herbs? You need your brightest face, your best <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span>apparel now. +These folk of St. Louis must see us at our best, my dear, our very +best. Besides——”</p> + +<p>He needed not to complete the sentence. Theodosia Alston knew well +enough what was in her father’s mind—knew well enough why they both +were here. It was because she would not have come alone. And she knew +that the burden of the work they had at heart must once more lie upon +her shoulders. She once more must see Captain Meriwether Lewis—and it +must be soon, if ever. He was reported as being ready to leave town at +once upon his return from the Osage Indians.</p> + +<p>But courtesy did not fail the young Virginian, and at last—although +with dread in his own heart—within an hour of his actual departure, +he called to pay his compliments to guests so distinguished as these, +to a man so high in rank under the government which he himself served. +He found it necessary to apologize for his garb, suited rather to the +trail than to the drawing-room. He stood in the hall of the Chouteau +home, a picture of the soldier of the frontier rather than the +courtier of the capital.</p> + +<p>His three-cornered military hat, his blue uniform coat—these made the +sole formality of his attire, for his feet were moccasined, his limbs +were clad in tight-fitting buckskins, and his shirt was of rough +linsey, suitable for the work ahead.</p> + +<p>“I ask your pardon, Colonel Burr,” said he, “for coming to you as I +am, but the moment for my start is now directly at hand. I could not +leave without coming to present my duties to you and Mrs. Alston. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>Indeed, I have done so at once upon my return to town. I pray you +carry back to Mr. Jefferson my sincerest compliments. Say to him, if +you will, that we are setting forth with high hopes of success.”</p> + +<p>Formal, cold, polite—it was the one wish of Captain Lewis to end this +interview as soon as he might, and to leave all sleeping dogs lying as +they were.</p> + +<p>But Aaron Burr planned otherwise. His low, deep voice was never more +persuasive, his dark eye never more compelling—nor was his bold heart +ever more in trepidation than now, as he made excuse for +delay—delay—delay.</p> + +<p>“My daughter, Mrs. Alston, will join us presently,” he said. “So you +are ready, Captain Lewis?”</p> + +<p>“We are quite prepared, Colonel Burr. My men are on ahead two days’ +journey, camped at St. Charles, and waiting for me to overtake them. +Dr. Saugrain, Mr. Chouteau, Mr. Labadie—one or two others of the +gentlemen in the city—are so kind as to offer me a convoy of honor so +far as St. Charles. We are quite flattered. So now we start—they are +waiting for me at the wharf now, and I must go. All bridges are burned +behind me!”</p> + +<p>“<i>All bridges burned?</i>”</p> + +<p>The deep voice of Aaron Burr almost trembled. His keen eye searched +the face of the young man before him.</p> + +<p>“Every one,” replied the young Virginian. “I do not know how or when I +may return. Perhaps Mr. Clark or myself may come back by sea—should +we ever reach the sea. We can only trust to Providence.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p><p>He was bowing and extending his own hand in farewell, with polite +excuses as to his haste—relieved that his last ordeal had been spared +him. He turned, as he felt rather than heard the approach of another, +whose coming caused his heart almost to stop beating—the woman +dreaded and demanded by every fiber of his being.</p> + +<p>“Oh, not so fast, not so fast!” laughed Theodosia Alston as she came +into the room, offering her hand. “I heard you talking, and have been +hurrying to pretty myself up for Captain Lewis. What? Were you trying +to run away without ever saying good-by to me? And how you are +prettied up!”</p> + +<p>Her gaze, following her light speech, resolved itself into one of +admiration. Theodosia Alston, as she looked, found him a goodly +picture as he stood ready for the trail.</p> + +<p>“I was just going, yes,” stammered Meriwether Lewis. “I had hoped——” +But what he had hoped he did not say.</p> + +<p>“Why might we not walk down with you to the wharf, if you are so soon +to go?” she demanded—her own self-control concealing any +disappointment she may have felt at her cavalier reception.</p> + +<p>“An excellent idea!” said Aaron Burr, backing his daughter’s hand, and +trusting to her to have some plan. “A warrior must spend his last word +with some woman, captain! Go you on ahead—I surrender my daughter to +you, and I shall follow presently to bid you a last Godspeed. You said +those other gentlemen were to join you there?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span></p><p>Meriwether Lewis found himself walking down the narrow street of the +frontier settlement between the lines of hollyhocks and budding roses +which fronted many of the little residences. It was spring, the air +was soft. He was young. The woman at his side was very beautiful. So +far as he could see they were alone.</p> + +<p>They passed along the street, turned, made their way down the +rock-faced bluff to the water front; but still they were alone. All +St. Louis was at the farther end of the wharf, waiting for a last look +at the idol of the town.</p> + +<p>Theodosia sighed.</p> + +<p>“And so Captain Lewis is going to have his way as usual? And he was +going—in spite of all—even without saying good-by to me!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I would have preferred that.”</p> + +<p>“Captain Lewis is mad. Look at that river! They say that when the boat +started last week it took them an hour to make a quarter of a mile, +when they struck into the Missouri. How many thousands of hours will +it take to ascend to the mountains? How will you get your boats across +the mountains? What cascades and rapids lie on ahead? Your men will +mutiny and destroy you. You cannot succeed—you will fail!”</p> + +<p>“I thank you, madam!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, you must start now, I presume—in fact, you have started; but I +want you to come back before your obstinacy has driven you too far.”</p> + +<p>“Just what do you mean?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p><p>“Listen. You have given me no time, unkind as you are—not a +moment—at an hour like this! In these unsettled times, who knows what +may happen? In that very unsettlement lies the probable success of the +plan which my father and I have put before you so often. We need you +to help us. When are you going to come back to us, Merne?”</p> + +<p>As she spoke, they were approaching the long wharf along the water +front, lined with rude craft which plied the rivers at that +time—flatboats, keel-boats, pirogues, canoes—and, far off at the +extremity of the line, the boat which Lewis and his friends were to +take. A party of idlers and observers stood about it even now. The +gaze of the young leader was fixed in that direction. He did not make +any immediate sign that he had heard her speech.</p> + +<p>“I told Shannon, my aide, to meet me here,” he said at last. “He was +to fetch my long spyglass. There are certain little articles of my +equipment over yonder in the wharf shed. Would you excuse me for just +a moment?”</p> + +<p>He stooped at the low door and entered. But she followed him—followed +after him unconsciously, without plan, feeling only that he must not +go, that she could not let him away from her.</p> + +<p>She saw the light floating through the door fall on his dense hair, +long, loosely bagged in its cue. She saw the quality of his strong +figure, in all the fittings of a frontiersman, saw his stern face, his +troubled eye, saw the unconscious strength which marked his every +movement as he strode about, eager, as it seemed to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span>her, only to be +done with his last errands, and away on that trail which so long had +beckoned to him.</p> + +<p>The strength of the man, the strength of his purpose—the sudden and +full realization of both—this caught her like a tangible thing, and +left her no more than the old, blind, unformed protest. He must not +go! She could not let him go!</p> + +<p>But the words she had spoken had caught him, after all. He had been +pondering—had been trying to set them aside as if unheard.</p> + +<p>“Coming back?” he began, and stopped short once more. They were now +both within the shelter of the old building.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Merne!” she broke out suddenly. “When are you coming back to me, +Merne?”</p> + +<p>He stood icy silent, motionless, for just a moment. It seemed to her +as if he was made of stone. Then he spoke very slowly, deliberately.</p> + +<p>“Coming back to <i>you</i>? And you call me by that name? Only my mother, +Mr. Jefferson and Will Clark ever did so.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, stiff-necked man! It is so hard to be kind with you! And all I +have ever done—every time I have followed you in this way, each time +I have humiliated myself thus—it always was only in kindness for +you!”</p> + +<p>He made no reply.</p> + +<p>“Fate ran against us, Merne,” she went on tremblingly. “We have both +accepted fate. But in a woman’s heart are many mansions. Is there none +in a man’s—in yours—for me? Can’t I ask a place in a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>good man’s +heart—an innocent, clean place? Oh, think not you have had all the +unhappiness in your own heart! Is all the world’s misery yours? I +don’t want you to go away, Merne, but if you do—if you must—won’t +you come back? Oh, won’t you, Merne?”</p> + +<p>Her voice was trembling, her hand half raised, her eyes sought after +him. She stood partly in shadow, the flare of light from the open door +falling over her face. She might have been some saint of old in +pictured guise; but she was a woman, alive, beautiful, delectable, +alluring—especially now, with this tone in her voice, this strangely +beseeching look in her eyes.</p> + +<p>Her hands were almost lifted to be held out to him. She stood almost +inclined to him, wholly unconscious of her attitude, forgetting that +her words were imploring, remembering only that he was going.</p> + +<p>He seemed not to hear her voice as he stood there, but somewhere as if +out of some savage past, a voice did speak to him, saying that when a +man is sore athirst, then a man may drink—that the well-spring would +not miss the draft, and would tell no tale of it!</p> + +<p>He stood, as many another man has stood, and fought the fight many +another man has fought—the fight between man the primitive and man +the gentleman, chivalry contending with impulse, blood warring with +breeding.</p> + +<p><a name="Illo2" id="Illo2"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"> +<img src="images/i167.jpg" class="jpg ispace" width="350" height="500" alt="“‘Oh, Theo, what have I done?’”" title="" /> +<span class="caption">“‘Oh, Theo, what have I done?’”</span> +</div> + +<p>“Yes!” so said the voice in his ear. “Why should the spring grudge a +draft to a soul aflame with an undying thirst? Vows? What have vows to +do with this? Duty? What is duty to a man perishing?—I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>know not what +it was. I heard it. I felt it. Forgive me, it was not I myself! Oh, +Theo, what have I done?”</p> + +<p>She could not speak, could not even sob. Neither horror nor resentment +was possible for her, nor any protest, save the tears which welled +silently, terribly.</p> + +<p>Unable longer to endure this, Meriwether Lewis turned to leave behind +him his last hope of happiness, and to face alone what he now felt to +be the impenetrable night of his own destiny. He never knew when his +hands fell from Theodosia Alston’s face, or when he turned away; but +at last he felt himself walking, forcing his head upright, his face +forward.</p> + +<p>He passed, a tall, proud man in his half-savage trappings—a man in +full ownership of splendid physical powers; but as he walked his feet +were lead, his heart was worse than lead. And though his face was +turned away from her, he knew that always he would see what he had +left—this picture of Theodosia weeping—this picture of a saint +mocked, of an altar desecrated. She wept, and it was because of him!</p> + +<p>The dumb cry of his remorse, his despair, must have struck back to +where she still stood, her hands on her bosom, staring at him as he +passed:</p> + +<p>“Theo! Theo! What have I done? What have I done?”</p> + +<hr class="large" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 163-6]</a></span></p><h2>PART II</h2> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="Second_CHAPTER_I" id="Second_CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>UNDER ONE FLAG</h3> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">W</span>hat do you bring, oh, mighty river—and what tidings do you carry +from the great mountains yonder in the unknown lands? In what region +grew this great pine which swims with you to the sea? What fat lands +reared this heavy trunk, which sinks at last, to be buried in the +sands?</p> + +<p>What jewels lie under your flood? What rich minerals float impalpably +in your tawny waters? Across what wide prairies did you come—among +what hills—through what vast forests? How long, great river, was your +journey, sufficient to afford so tremendous a gathering of the waters?</p> + +<p>A hundred years ago the great Missouri made no answer to these +questions. It was open highway only for those who dared. The man who +asked its secrets must read them for himself. What a time and place +for adventure! What a time and place for men!</p> + +<p>From sea to sea, across an unknown, fabled mountain range, lay our +wilderness, now swiftly trebled by a miracle in statecraft. The flag +which floated over the last stockade of Spain, the furthest outpost of +France, now was advancing step by step, inch by inch, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>up the giant +flood of the Missouri, borne on the flagship of a flotilla consisting +of one flatboat and two skiffs, carrying an army whose guns were one +swivel piece and thirty rifles.</p> + +<p>Not without toil and danger was this enterprise to advance. When at +length the last smoke of a settler’s cabin had died away over the +lowland forest, the great river began in earnest to exact its toll.</p> + +<p>Continually the boats, heavily laden as they were, ran upon shifting +bars of sand, or made long détours to avoid some <i>chevaux de frise</i> of +white-headed snags sunk in the current with giant uptossing limbs. +Floating trees came down resistlessly on the spring rise, demanding +that all craft should beware of them; caving banks, in turn, warned +the boats to keep off; and always the mad current of the stream, never +relaxing in vehemence, laid on the laboring boats the added weight of +its mountain of waters, gaining in volume for nearly three thousand +miles.</p> + +<p>The square sail at times aided the great bateau when the wind came +upstream, but no sail could serve for long on so tortuous a water. The +great oars, twenty-two in all, did their work in lusty hands, hour +after hour, but sometimes they could hardly hold the boats against the +power of the June rise. The setting poles could not always find good +bottom, but sometimes the men used these in the old keel boat fashion, +traveling along the walking-boards on the sides of the craft, head +down, bowed over the setting-poles—the same manner of locomotion that +had conquered the Mississippi.</p> + +<p>When sail and oar and setting-pole proved unavailing, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span>the men were +out and overboard, running the banks with the cordelle. As they +labored thus on the line, like so many yoked cattle, using each ounce +of weight and straining muscle to hold the heavy boat against the +current, snags would catch the line, stumps would foul it, trees +growing close to the bank’s edge would arrest it. Sometimes the great +boat, swung sidewise in the current in spite of the last art of the +steersmen, would tauten the line like a tense fiddle-string, flipping +the men, like so many insects, from their footing, and casting them +into the river, to emerge as best they might.</p> + +<p>Cruzatte, Labiche, Drouillard—all the French voyageurs—with the +infinite French patience smiled and sweated their way through. The New +Englanders grew grim; the Kentuckians fumed and swore. But little by +little, inch by inch, creeping, creeping, paying the toll exacted, +they went on day by day, leaving the old world behind them, morning by +morning advancing farther into the new.</p> + +<p>The sun blistered them by day; clouds of pests tormented them by +night; miasmatic lowlands threatened them both night and day. But they +went on.</p> + +<p>The immensity of the river itself was an appalling thing; its bends +swept miles long in giant arcs. But bend after bend they spanned, bar +after bar they skirted, bank after bank they conquered—and went on. +In the water as much as out of it, drenched, baked, gaunt, ragged, +grim, they paid the toll.</p> + +<p>A month passed, and more. The hunters exulted that game was so easy to +get, for they must depend <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span>in large part on the game killed by the +way. At the mouth of the Kansas River, near where a great city one day +was to stand, they halted on the twenty-sixth of June. Deer, turkeys, +bear, geese, many “goslins,” as quaint Will Clark called them, +rewarded their quest.</p> + +<p>July came and well-nigh passed. They reached the mouth of the great +Platte River, far out into the Indian country. Over this unmapped +country ranged the Otoes, the Omahas, the Pawnees, the Kansas, the +Osages, the Rees, the Sioux. This was the buffalo range where the +tribes had fought immemorially.</p> + +<p>It was part of the mission of Captain Lewis’s little army to carry +peace among these warring tribes. The nature of the expedition was +explained to their chiefs. At the great Council Bluffs many of the +Otoes came and promised to lay down the hatchet and cease to make war +against the Omahas. The Omahas, in turn, swore allegiance to the new +flag.</p> + +<p>On ahead somewhere lay the powerful Sioux nation, doubt and dread of +all the traders who had ever passed up the Missouri. Dorion, the +interpreter, married among them, admitted that even he could not tell +what the Sioux might do.</p> + +<p>The expedition struck camp at last, high up on the great river, in the +country of the Yanktonnais. The Sioux long had marked its coming, and +were ready for its landing. Their signal fires called in the villages +to meet the boats of the white men.</p> + +<p>They came riding down in bands, whooping and shouting, painted and +half naked, well armed—splendid savages, fearing no man, proud, +capricious, blood-thirsty. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span>They were curious as to the errand of +these new men who came carrying a new flag—these men who could make +the thunder speak. For now the heavy piece on the bow of the great +barge spoke in no uncertain terms so that its echoes ran back along +the river shores. No such boat, no such gun as this, had ever been +seen in that country before.</p> + +<p>“Tell them to make a council, Dorion,” said Lewis. “Take this +officer’s coat to their head man. Tell him that the Great Father sends +it to him. Give him this hat with lace on it. Tell him that when we +are ready we may come to their council to meet their chiefs. Say that +only their real chiefs must come, for we will not treat with any but +their head men. If they wish to see us soon, let them come to our +village here.”</p> + +<p>“You are chiefs!” said Dorion. “Have I not seen it? I will tell them +so.”</p> + +<p>But Dorion had been gone but a short time when he came hurrying back +from the Indian village.</p> + +<p>“The runners say plenty buffalo close by,” he reported. “The chief, +she’ll call the people to hunt the buffalo.”</p> + +<p>William Clark turned to his companion.</p> + +<p>“You hear that, Merne?” said he. “Why should we not go also?”</p> + +<p>“Agreed!” said Meriwether Lewis. “But stay, I have a thought. We will +go as they go and hunt as they do. To impress an Indian, beat him at +his own game. You and I must ride this day, Will!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, and without saddles, too! Very well, I learned that of my +brother, who learned it of the Indians <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span>themselves. And I know you and +I both can shoot the bow as well as most Indians—that was part of our +early education. I might better have been in school sometimes, when I +was learning the bow.”</p> + +<p>“Dorion,” said Lewis to the interpreter, “go back to the village and +tell their chief to send two bows with plenty of arrows. Tell them +that we scorn to waste any powder on so small a game as the buffalo. +On ahead are animals each one of which is as big as twenty buffalo—we +keep our great gun for those. As for buffalo, we kill them as the +Indians do, with the bow and with the spear. We shall want the +stiffest bows, with sinewed backs. Our arms are very strong.”</p> + +<p>Swift and wide spread the word among the Sioux that the white chiefs +would run the buffalo with their own warriors. Exclamations of +amusement, surprise, satisfaction, were heard. The white men should +see how the Sioux could ride. But Weucha, the head man, sent a +messenger with two bows and plenty of arrows—short, keen-pointed +arrows, suitable for the buffalo hunt, when driven by the stiff bows +of the Sioux.</p> + +<p>“Strip, Will,” said Meriwether Lewis. “If we ride as savages, it must +be in full keeping.”</p> + +<p>They did strip to the waist, as the savages always did when running +the buffalo—sternest of all savage sport or labor, and one of the +boldest games ever played by man, red or white. Clad only in leggings +and moccasins, their long hair tied in firm cues, when Weucha met them +he exclaimed in admiration. The village turned out in wonder to see +these two men <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span>whose skins were white, whose hair was not black, but +some strange new color—one whose hair was red.</p> + +<p>The two young officers were not content with this. York, Captain +Clark’s servant, rolling his eyes, showing his white teeth, was +ordered to strip up the sleeve of his shirt to show that his hide was +neither red nor white, but black—another wonder in that land!</p> + +<p>“Now, York, you rascal,” commanded William Clark, “do as I tell you!”</p> + +<p>“Yessah, massa Captain, I suttinly will!”</p> + +<p>“When I raise this flag, do you drop on the ground and knock your +forehead three times. Groan loud—groan as if you had religion, York! +Do you understand?”</p> + +<p>“Yassah, massa Captain!”</p> + +<p>York grinned his enjoyment; and when he had duly executed the +maneuver, the Sioux greeted the white men with much acclamation.</p> + +<p>“I see that you are chiefs!” exclaimed Weucha. “You have many colors, +and your medicine is strong. Take, then, these two horses of +mine—they are good runners for buffalo—perhaps yours are not so +fast.” Thus Dorion interpreted.</p> + +<p>“Now,” said Clark, “suppose I take the lance, Merne, and you handle +the bow. I never have tried the trick, but I believe I can handle this +tool.”</p> + +<p>He picked up and shook in his hand the short lance, steel-tipped, +which Weucha was carrying. The latter grinned and nodded his assent, +handing the weapon to the red-haired leader.</p> + +<p>“Now we shall serve!” said Lewis an instant later; <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span>for they brought +out two handsome horses, one coal-black, the other piebald, both +mettlesome and high-strung.</p> + +<p>That the young men were riders they now proved, for they mounted +alone, barebacked, and managed to control their mounts with nothing +but the twisted hide rope about the lower jaw—the only bridle known +among the tribes of the great plains.</p> + +<p>The crier now passed down the village street, marshaling all the +riders for the chase. Weucha gave the signal to advance, himself +riding at the head of the cavalcade, with the two white captains at +his side—a picture such as any painter might have envied.</p> + +<p>Others of the expedition followed on as might be—Shannon, Gass, the +two Fields boys, others of the better hunters of the Kentuckians. Even +York, not to be denied, sneaked in at the rear. They all rode quietly +at first, with no outcry, no sound save the steady tramp of the +horses.</p> + +<p>Their course was laid back into the prairie for a mile or two before a +halt was called. Then the chief disposed his forces. The herd was +supposed to be not far away, beyond a low rim of hills. On this side +the men were ranged in line. A blanket waved from a point visible to +all was to be the signal for the charge.</p> + +<p>Dorion, also stripped to the waist, a kerchief bound about his head, +carrying a short carbine against his thigh, now rode alongside.</p> + +<p>“He say Weucha show you how Sioux can ride,” he interpreted.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p><p>“Tell him it is good, Dorion,” rejoined Lewis. “We will show him also +that we can ride!”</p> + +<p>A shout came from the far edge of the restless ranks. A half-naked +rider waved a blanket. With shrill shouts the entire line broke at top +speed for the ridge.</p> + +<p>Neither of the two young Americans had ever engaged in the sport of +running the buffalo; yet now the excitement of the scene caused both +to forget all else. They urged on their horses, mingling with the +savage riders.</p> + +<p>The buffalo had been feeding less than a quarter of a mile away; the +wind was favorable, and they had not yet got scent of the approach; +but now, as the line of horsemen broke across the crest, the herd +streamed out and away from them—crude, huge, formless creatures, with +shaggy heads held low, their vast bulk making them seem almost like +prehistoric things. The dust of their going arose in a blinding cloud, +the thunder of their hoofs left inaudible even the shrill cries of the +riding warriors as they closed in.</p> + +<p>The chase passed outward into an open plain, which lay white in +alkali. In a few moments the swift horses had carried the best of the +riders deep into the dust-cloud which arose. Each man followed some +chosen animal, doing his best to keep it in sight as the herd plowed +onward in the biting dust.</p> + +<p>Here and there the vast, solid surface of a sea of rolling backs could +be glimpsed; again an opening into it might be seen close at hand. It +was bold work, and any who engaged in it took his chances.</p> + +<p>Lewis found his horse, the black runner that Weucha <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span>had given him, as +swift as the best, and able to lay him promptly alongside his quarry. +At a distance of a few feet he drew back the sinewy string of the +tough Sioux bow, gripping his horse with his knees, swaying his body +out to the bow, as he well knew how. The shaft, discharged at a +distance of but half a dozen feet, sank home with a soft <i>zut</i>. The +stricken animal swerved quickly toward him, but his wary horse leaped +aside and went on. Such as the work had been, it was done for that +buffalo at least, and Lewis knew that he had caught the trick.</p> + +<p>The black runner singled out another and yet another; and again and +again Lewis shot—until at last, his arrows nearly exhausted, after +two or three miles of mad speed, he pulled out of the herd and waited.</p> + +<p>In the white dust-cloud, lifted now and then, he could see naked forms +swaying, bending forward, plying their weapons. Somewhere in the midst +of it, out in the ruck of hoof and horn, his friend was riding, +forgetting all else but the excitement of the chase. What if accident +had befallen either of them? Lewis could not avoid asking himself that +question.</p> + +<p>Now the riders edged through the herd, outward, around its +flank—turned it, were crowding it back, milling and confused. Out of +the dust emerged two figures, naked, leaning forward to the leaping of +their horses. One was an Indian, his black locks flowing, his eyes +gleaming, his hand flogging his horse as he rode. The other was a +white man, his tall white body splashed with blood, his long red hair, +broken from his cue, on his shoulders.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p><p>The two were pursuing the same animal—a young bull, which thus far +had kept his distance some fifty yards or so ahead. But as Lewis +looked, both riders urged their horses to yet more speed. The piebald +of William Clark, well ridden, sprang away in advance and laid him +alongside of the quarry. Lewis himself saw the poised spear—saw it +plunge—saw the buffalo stumble in its stride—and saw his companion +pass on, whooping in exultation at Weucha, who came up an instant +later, defeated, but grinning and offering his hand. Now came Dorion +also, out of ammunition, yet not out of speech, excited, jabbering as +usual.</p> + +<p>“Four nice cow I’ll kill!” gabbled he. “I’ll kill him four tam, bang, +bang! Plenty meat for my lodge now. How many you’ll shot, Captain?” he +asked of Lewis.</p> + +<p>“Plenty—you will find them back there.”</p> + +<p>Weucha, who came up after magnanimously shaking the hand of William +Clark, peered with curiosity into Lewis’s almost empty quiver. He +smiled again, for that the white men had ridden well was obvious +enough. He called a young man to him, showed him the arrow-mark, and +sent him back to see how many of the dead buffalo showed arrows with +similar marks.</p> + +<p>In time the messenger came back carrying a sheaf of arrows. Grinning, +he held up the fingers of two hands.</p> + +<p>“Tell him that is nothing, Dorion,” said Lewis. “We could have killed +many more if we had wished. We see that the Sioux can ride. Now, let +us see if they can talk at the council fire!”</p> + +<p>The two leaders hastened to their own encampment <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span>to remove all traces +of the hunt. An hour later they emerged from their tents clad as +officers of the army, each in cocked hat and full uniform, with sword +at side.</p> + +<p>With the fall of the sun, the drums sounded in the Indian village. The +criers passed along the street summoning the people to the feast, +summoning also the chiefs to the council lodge. Here the head men of +the village gathered, sitting about the little fire, the peace pipe +resting on a forked stick before them, waiting for the arrival of the +white chiefs—who could make the thunder come, who could make a strong +chief of black skin beat his head upon the ground; and who, moreover, +could ride stripped and strike the buffalo even as the Sioux.</p> + +<p>The white leaders were in no haste to show themselves. They demanded +the full dignity of their station; but they came at last, their own +drum beating as they marched at the head of their men, all of whom +were in the uniform of the frontier.</p> + +<p>York, selected as standard-bearer, bore the flag at the head of the +little band. Meriwether Lewis took it from him as they reached the +door of the council lodge, and thrust the staff into the soil, so that +it stood erect beside the lance and shield of Weucha, chief of the +Yanktonnais. Then, leaving their own men on guard without, the two +white chiefs stepped into the lodge, and, with not too much attention +to the chiefs sitting and waiting for them, took their own places in +the seat of honor. They removed their hats, shook free their +hair—which had been loosened from the cues; and so, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span>in dignified +silence, not looking about them, they sat, their long locks spread out +on their shoulders.</p> + +<p>Exclamations of excitement broke even from the dignified Sioux chiefs. +Clearly the appearance and the conduct of the two officers had made a +good impression. The circle eyed them with respect.</p> + +<p>At length Meriwether Lewis, holding in his hand the great peace pipe +that he had brought, arose.</p> + +<p>“Weucha,” said he, Dorion interpreting for him, “you are head man of +the Yanktonnais. I offer you this pipe. Let us smoke. We are at peace. +We are children of the Great Father, and I do not bring war. I have +put a flag outside the lodge. It is your flag. You must keep it. Each +night you must take it down, roll it up, and put it in a parfleche, so +that it will not be torn or soiled. Whenever you have a great feast, +or meet other peoples, let it fly at your door. It is because you are +a chief that I give you this flag. I gave one to the Omahas, another +to the Otoes. Let there be no more war between you. You are under one +flag now.</p> + +<p>“I give you this medal, Weucha, this picture on white iron. See, it +has the picture of the Great Father himself, my chief, who lives where +the sun rises. I also give you this writing, where I have made my +sign, and where the red-headed chief, my brother, has made his sign. +Keep these things, so that any who come here may know that you are our +friends, that you are the children of the Great Father.</p> + +<p>“Weucha, they told us that the Sioux were bad in heart, that you would +say we could not go up the river. Our Great Father has sent us up the +river, and we must <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span>go. Tomorrow our boats must be on their course. If +the Great Father has such medicine as this I give you, do you think we +could go back to him and say the Sioux would not let us pass? You have +seen that we are not afraid, that we are chiefs—we can do what you +can do. Can you do what we can? Can you make the thunder come? Is +there any among you who has a black skin, like the man with us? Are +any of your men able to strike the eye of a deer, the head of a +grouse, at fifty paces with the rifle? All of my men can do that.</p> + +<p>“I give you these presents—these lace coats for your great men, these +hats also, such as we wear, because you are our brothers, and are +chiefs. A little powder, a few balls, I give you, because we think you +want them. I give you a little tobacco for your pipes. If my words +sound good in your ears, I will send a talking paper to the Great +Father, and tell him that you are his children.”</p> + +<p>Deep-throated exclamations of approval met this speech. Weucha took +the pipe. He arose himself, a tall and powerful man, splendidly clad +in savage fashion, and spoke as the born leader that he also was. He +pledged the loyalty of the Sioux and the freedom of the river.</p> + +<p>“I give you the horse you rode this morning,” said Weucha to Lewis, +“the black runner. To you, red-haired chief, I give the +white-and-black horse that you rode. It is well that chiefs like you +should have good horses.</p> + +<p>“Tomorrow our people will go a little way with you <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span>up the river. We +want you for our friends, for we know your medicine is strong. We know +that when we show this flag to other tribes—to the Otoes, the Omahas, +the Osages—they will fall on the ground and knock their heads on the +ground, as the black man did when the red-headed chief raised it above +him.</p> + +<p>“The Great Father has sent us two chiefs who are young but very wise. +They can strike the buffalo. They can speak at the council. Weucha, +the Yanktonnais, says that they may go on. We know you will not lose +the trail. We know that you will come back. You are chiefs!”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="Second_CHAPTER_II" id="Second_CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>THE MYSTERIOUS LETTER</h3> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">L</span>ate in the night the Yanktonnais drums still sounded, long after a +dozen Sioux had spoken, and after the two white chieftains had arisen +and left the council fire. The people of the village were feasting +around half a hundred fires. The village was joyous, light-hearted, +and free of care. The hunt had been successful.</p> + +<p>“Look at them, Will,” said Meriwether Lewis, as they paused at the +edge of the bluff and turned back for a last glimpse at the savage +scene. “They are like children. I swear, I almost believe their lot in +life is happier than our own!”</p> + +<p>“Tut, tut, Merne—moralizing again?” laughed William Clark, the +light-hearted. “Come now, help me get my eelskin about my hair. We may +need this red mane of mine further up the river. I trust to take it +back home with me, after all, now that we seem safe to pass these +Sioux without a fight. I am happy enough that our business today has +come out so well. I am a bit tired, and an old bull gave me a smash +with his horn this morning; so I am ready to turn into my blankets. +Are all the men on the roll tonight?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span></p><p>“Sergeant Ordway reports Shannon still absent. It seems he went out on +the hunt this morning, and has not yet come back. I’ll wait up a time, +I think, Will, to see if he comes in. It is rather a wild business for +a boy to lie out all night in such a country, with only the wolves for +company. Go you to your blankets, as you say. For me, I might be a +better sleeper than I am.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, that is true,” rejoined Will Clark, rubbing his bruised leg. “It +is beginning to show on you, too, Merne. Isn’t it enough to be +astronomer and doctor and bookkeeper and record-keeper and all that? +No, you think not—you must sit up all night by your little fire under +the stars and think and think. Oh, I have seen you, Merne! I have seen +you sitting there when you should have been sleeping. Do you call that +leadership, Captain Lewis? The men are under you, and if the leader is +not fit, the men are not. Now, a human body will stand only so +much—or a human mind, either, Merne. There is a limit to effort and +endurance.”</p> + +<p>His friend turned to him seriously.</p> + +<p>“You are right, Will,” said he. “I owe duty to many besides myself.”</p> + +<p>“You take things too hard, Merne. You cannot carry the whole world on +your shoulders. Look now, I have not been so blind as not to see that +something is going wrong with you. Merne, you are ill, or will be. +Something is wrong!”</p> + +<p>His companion made no reply. They marched on to their own part of the +encampment, and seated themselves <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span>at the little fire which had been +left burning for them.<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></p> + +<p>William Clark went on with his reproving.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p><p>“Tell me, Merne, what are you thinking of? It is not that woman?”</p> + +<p>He seemed to feel the sudden shrinking of the tall figure at his side.</p> + +<p>“I have touched you on the raw once more, haven’t I, Merne?” he +exclaimed. “I never meant to. I only want to see you happy.”</p> + +<p>“You must not be too uneasy, Will,” returned Meriwether Lewis, at +last. “It is only that sometimes at night I lie awake and ponder over +things. And the nights themselves are wonderful!”</p> + +<p>“Saw you ever such nights, Merne, in all your life? Breathed you ever +such air as these plains carry in the nighttime? Why do you not +exult—what is it you cannot forget? You don’t really deceive me, +Merne. What is it that you <i>see</i> when you lie awake at night under the +stars? Some face, eh? What, Merne? You mean to tell me you are still +so foolish? We left three months ago. I gave you two months for +forgetting her—and that is enough! Come, now, perhaps some maid of +the Mandans, on ahead, will prove fair enough to pipe to you, or to +touch the bull-hide tambourine in such fashion as to charm you from +your sorrows! No, don’t be offended—it is only that I want to tell +you not to take that old affair too hard. And now, it is time for you +to turn in.”</p> + +<p>William Clark himself arose and strolled to his own blanket-roll, +spread it out, and lay down beneath the sky to sleep. Meriwether Lewis +sought to follow his example, and spread open his robe and blankets +close to the fire. As he leaned back, he felt something hard <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span>and +crackling under his hand, and looked down.</p> + +<p>It was his custom to carry in his blankets, for safekeeping, his long +spyglass, a pair of dry moccasins and a buckskin tunic. These articles +were here, as he expected to find them. Yet here among them was a +folded and sealed envelope—a letter! He had not placed it here; yet +here it was.</p> + +<p>He caught it up in his hand, looked at it wonderingly, kicked the ends +of the embers together so that they flamed up, bent forward to read +the superscription—and paused in amazement. Well enough he knew the +firm, upright, characterful hand which addressed this missive to him:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>TO CAPTAIN MERIWETHER LEWIS.—ON THE TRAIL IN THE WEST.</p></div> + +<p>A feeling somewhat akin to awe fell upon Meriwether Lewis. He felt a +cold prickling along his spine. It was for him, yes—but whence had it +come? There had been no messenger from outside the camp. For one brief +instant it seemed, indeed, as if this bit of paper—which of all +possible gifts of the gods he would most have coveted—had dropped +from the heavens themselves at his feet here in the savage wilderness. +His heart had been on the point of breaking, it seemed to him—and it +had come to comfort him! It was from her. It ran thus:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Dear Sir and Friend:</span><br /></p> + +<p>Greetings to you, wherever you may be when this shall find +you. Are you among the Gauls, the Goths, the Visigoths, the +Huns, the Vandals, or the Cimbri? Wherever you be, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span>our +hopes and faith go with you. You are, as I fancy, in a +desert, a wilderness, worth no man’s owning. Life passes +meantime. To what end, my friend?</p> + +<p>I fancy you in the deluge, in the hurricane, in the blaze of +the sun, or in the bleak winds, alone, cheerless, perhaps +athirst, perhaps knowing hunger. I know that you will meet +these things like a man. But to what end—what is the +purpose of all this? You have left behind you all that makes +life worth while—fortune, fame, life, ambition, honor—to +go away into the desert. At what time are you going to turn +back and come to us once more?</p> + +<p>Oh, if only I had the right—if only I dared—if only I were +in a position to lay some command on you to bring you back! +Methinks then I would. You could do so much for us all—so +much for me. It would mean so much to my own happiness if +you were here.</p> + +<p>Meriwether Lewis, come back! You have gone far enough. On +ahead are only cruel hardship and continual failure. Here +are fortune, fame, wealth, ambition, honor—and more. I told +you one time I would lay my hand upon your shoulder out +yonder, no matter where you were. I said that you should +look into my face yonder when you sat alone beside your fire +under the stars. You said that it would be torment. I said +that none the less I would not let you go. I said my face +still should stay with you, until you were willing to turn +back.</p> + +<p>Turn back <i>now</i>, Meriwether Lewis! Come back!</p></div> + +<p>The letter was not signed, and needed not to be. Meriwether Lewis sat +staring at the paper clutched in his hand.</p> + +<p>Her face! Ah, did he not see it now? Was it not true what she had +said? He saw her face now—but not smiling, happy, contented, as it +once had been. No, he saw it pale and in distress. He saw tears in her +eyes. And she had written him:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Oh, if only I had the right to lay some command on you!</p></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span></p><p>Was not he, who had forgotten honor, subject now to any command that +she might give him?</p> + +<p>“Will, Will!” exclaimed Meriwether Lewis, sharply, imperatively, to +his friend, whom he could see dimly at a little distance as he lay.</p> + +<p>The long figure in its robes straightened quickly, for by day or night +William Clark was instantly ready for any sudden alarm. He started up +on his robe, with his hand on his rifle.</p> + +<p>“Who calls there? Who goes?” he cried, half awake.</p> + +<p>“It is I, Will,” said Meriwether Lewis, advancing toward him. +“Listen—tell me, Will, why did you do this?”</p> + +<p>“Why did I do what? Merne, what is wrong?”</p> + +<p>Clark was now on his feet, and Lewis held out the letter to him. He +took it in his hand, looked at it wonderingly.</p> + +<p>“This letter——” began Meriwether Lewis. “Certainly you carried it for +me—why did you not bring it to me long ago?”</p> + +<p>“What letter? Whose letter is it, Merne? I never saw it before. What +is it you are saying? Are you mad?”</p> + +<p>“I think so,” said Lewis, “I think I must be. Here is a letter—I +found it but now in my bed. I thought perhaps you had had it for me a +long time, and placed it there as a surprise.”</p> + +<p>“Who sends it, Merne. What does it say?”</p> + +<p>“It is from the woman whose face I have seen at night, Will. She asks +me to come back!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></p><p>“Burn it—throw it in the fire!” said William Clark sharply. “Go back? +What, forsake Mr. Jefferson—leave me?”</p> + +<p>“God forgive me, Will, but you search my very heart! For one moment I +was on the point of declaring myself too ill to finish this +journey—on the point of letting you have all the honor of it. I was +going to surrender my place to you.”</p> + +<p>“You cannot desert us, Merne! You shall not! Go back to bed! Give me +the letter! Bah! it is some counterfeit, some trick of one of the +men!”</p> + +<p>“It would be worth any man’s life to try a jest like that,” said +Meriwether Lewis. “It is no counterfeit. I know it too well. This +letter was written before we left St. Louis. How it came here I know +not, but I know who wrote it.”</p> + +<p>“She had no right——”</p> + +<p>“Ah, but that is the cruelty of it—she <i>did</i> have the right!”</p> + +<p>“There are some things which a man must work out for himself,” said +William Clark slowly, after a time. “I don’t think I’ll ask any +questions. If there is any place where I can take half your burden, +you know what I will do. We’ve worked share and share alike, but +perhaps some things cannot be shared, even by you and me. It is for +you to tell me if I can help you now. If not, then you must decide.”</p> + +<p>Even as he spoke, his beloved friend was turning away from him. +Meriwether Lewis walked out alone into the night. Stumbling, he passed +on out among the shadows, under the starlight. Without much plan, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span>he +found himself on a little eminence of the bluff near by.</p> + +<p>He sat down, his blanket drawn over his head, like an Indian, +motionless, thinking, fighting out his own fight, as sometimes a man +must, alone. He did not know that William Clark, most faithful of +friends, himself silent as a Sioux, had followed, and sat a little +distance apart, his eyes fixed on the motionless figure outlined +against the sky.</p> + +<p>The dawn came at last and kindled a red band along the east. The gray +light at length grew more clear. A coyote on the bluff raised a long +and quavering cry, like some soul in torture. As if it were his own +voice, Meriwether Lewis stirred, rose, drew back the blanket from his +shoulders, and turned down the hill.</p> + +<p>He saw his friend rising and advancing to him. Once more their hands +gripped, as they had when the two first met on the Ohio, almost a year +ago, at the beginning of their journey.</p> + +<p>Lewis frowned heavily. He could not speak for a time.</p> + +<p>“Give the orders to the men to roll out, Captain Clark,” said he at +length.</p> + +<p>“Which way, Captain Lewis—upstream or down?”</p> + +<p>“The expedition will go forward, Captain Clark.”</p> + +<p>“God bless you, Merne!” said the red-headed one.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="Second_CHAPTER_III" id="Second_CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>THE DAY’S WORK</h3> + +<p style="float: left; font-size: 100%; line-height: 80%; margin-top: 0;">“</p><p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">R</span>oll out, men, roll out!”</p> + +<p>The sleeping men stirred under their robes and blankets and turned +out, quickly awake, after the fashion of the wilderness. The sentinel +came in, his moccasins wet, his tunic girded tight against the cool of +the morning, which even at that season was chill upon the high plains. +Soon the fires were alight and the odors of roasting meat arose. The +hour was scarce yet dawn.</p> + +<p>“Ordway! Gass! Pryor!” Lewis called in the sergeants in charge of the +three messes. “The boy Shannon has not returned. Which of your men, +Ordway, will best serve to find Shannon and meet us up the river?”</p> + +<p>“Myself, sir,” said Ordway, “if you please.”</p> + +<p>“No, ’tis meself, sor,” interrupted Patrick Gass.</p> + +<p>Pryor, with hand outstretched, also claimed the honor of the difficult +undertaking.</p> + +<p>“You three are needed in the boats,” said the leader. “No, I think it +will be better to send Drouillard and the two Fields boys. But tell +me, Sergeant Ordway——”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p><p>“Yes, sir!”</p> + +<p>“Has any boat passed up the river within the last day—for instance, +while we were away at the hunt?”</p> + +<p>“I think not, sir. Surely any one coming up the river would have +turned in at our camp.”</p> + +<p>Lewis turned to Gass, to Pryor; but both agreed that no boat could +have gone by unnoticed.</p> + +<p>“And no man has come into the camp from below—no horseman?”</p> + +<p>They all shook their heads. Their leader looked from one to the other +keenly, trying to see if anything was concealed from him; but the +honest faces of his men showed no suspicion of his own doubts.</p> + +<p>He dismissed them, feeling it beneath his dignity to make inquiry as +to the bearer of the mysterious letter; nor did he mention it again to +William Clark. He knew only that some one of his men had a secret from +his commander.</p> + +<p>“The men will find Shannon and bring him in ahead—we can’t afford to +wait here for them. The water is falling now,” said Clark. “We are +doing our twenty miles daily. The men laugh on the line, for the bars +are exposed, and they can track along shore easily. Suppose Shannon +were out three days—that would make it sixty miles upstream—or less, +for him, for he could cut the bends. I make no doubt that when he +found himself out for the night he started up the river; even before +this time. <i>En avant</i>, Cruzatte!” he called. “You shall lead the line +for the first draw. Make it lively for an hour! Sing some song, +Cruzatte, if you can—some song of old Kaskaskia.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p><p>“Sure, the Frenchmans, she’ll lead on the line this morning, +<i>Capitaine</i>! I’ll put nine, seven Frenchmans on the line, and she’ll +run on the bank on her bare feet two hour—one hour. This buffalo +meat, she make Frenchmans strong like nothing!”</p> + +<p>“Go on, Frenchy!” said Patrick Gass, Cruzatte’s sergeant, who stood +near by. “Wait until time comes for my squad on the line—’tis thin +we’ll make the elkhide hum! There’s a few of the Irish along.”</p> + +<p>“Ho!” said Ordway, usually silent. “Wait rather for us Yankees—we’ll +show you what old Vermont can do!”</p> + +<p>“As to that,” said Pryor, “belike the Ohio and Kentucky men could +serve a turn as well as the Irish or the French. Old Kaintuck has to +help out the others, the way she did in the French and Indian War!”</p> + +<p>“Well,” broke in Peter Weiser, joining them as they argued, “I am from +Pennsylvania; but I am half Virginian, and there are some others from +the Old Dominion. When you are all done, call on us—ole Virginny +never tires!”</p> + +<p>The contagion of their light-heartedness, their loyalty and devotion, +came as solace to the heart of Meriwether Lewis. He smiled in spite of +himself, his eye kindling with confidence and admiration as he looked +over his men.</p> + +<p>They were stripping for their day’s work, ready for mud or water or +sun, as the case might be. Amidships, on the highest locker on the +barge, one of the Kentuckians was flapping his arms lustily and giving +the cockcrow, the river challenge of frontier days. Others <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span>seated +themselves at the long sweeps of the barge, while yet others were +manning the pirogues.</p> + +<p>A few moments later, with joyous shouts, they were on their way once +more—and not setting their faces toward home. In an hour they were +above the first long bend. The wilderness had closed behind them. No +trace of the Indian village was left, no sight of the lingering smoke +of their last camp fires.</p> + +<p>Faithfully, patiently, day by day, they held their way, sustained by +the renewed fascination of adventure, hardened and inured to risk and +toil alike. The distance behind them lengthened so enormously that +they began to figure upon the unknown rather than the known.</p> + +<p>“We surely must be almost across now!” said some of the men.</p> + +<p>All of them were sore distressed over the loss of Shannon. Two weeks +had passed since they left the Yankton Sioux, and four times the +faithful trailers had come back to the boats with no trace of the +missing one.</p> + +<p>“It certainly is in the off chance now,” assented William Clark +seriously, one day as they lay in the noon encampment. “But perhaps he +may be among the natives somewhere, and we may hear of him when we +come back—if ever we do.”</p> + +<p>“If he got by the Teton Sioux, and kept on up the river, in time he +would find us somewhere among the Mandans,” said Meriwether Lewis. +“But we will try once more before we give him up. Send a man to the +top of the bluff with my spyglass.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p><p>Busy in their labors over their maps, and in the recording of their +compass bearings, for half an hour they forgot their messenger, until +a shout called their attention. He was waving his hands, wildly +beckoning. Yonder, alone in the plains, bewildered, hopeless, +wandering, was the lost man, who did not even know that the river was +close at hand! Shannon’s escape from a miserable fate was but one more +instance of the almost miraculous good fortune which seemed to attend +the expedition.</p> + +<p>“And she was lucky man, too!” said Drouillard, a half-hour later, +nodding toward the opposite shore. “Suppose he is on that side, she’ll +not go in today!”</p> + +<p>“Two weeks on his foot!”</p> + +<p>They looked where he pointed. Red men, mounted, were visible, a dozen +of them, motionless, on the rim of the farther bank, watching the +explorers as they began to make ready for their journey. Lewis turned +his great field glass in that direction.</p> + +<p>“Sioux!” said he. “They are painted, too. I fancy,” he added, as he +turned toward his associates, “that this must be Black Buffalo’s band +of Tetons you’ve told us about, Drouillard.”</p> + +<p>“<i>Oui, oui</i>, the Teton!” exclaimed Drouillard. “I’ll not spoke his +language, me; but she’ll be bad Sioux. <i>Prenez garde, Capitaine, +prenez garde pour ces sauvages, les Sioux!</i>”</p> + +<p>And indeed this warning proved well founded. More Indians gathered in +toward the shore that afternoon, riding along, parallel with the +course of the boats, whooping, shouting to the boatmen. At nightfall +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span>there were a hundred of them assembled—painted warriors, decked in +all their savage finery, bold men, showing no fear of the newcomers.</p> + +<p>The white men went about their camp duties in a mingling of figures, +white and red. Lewis lined up his men, beat his drums, fired the great +swivel piece to impress the savages.</p> + +<p>“Bring out the flag, Will,” said he. “Put up our council awning. I’ll +have a parley with their head man. Can you make him out, Drouillard?”</p> + +<p>“He’ll said he was Black Buffalo,” replied the Frenchman. “I don’t +understand him very good.”</p> + +<p>“Take him these things, Drouillard,” said Lewis. “Give him a lace coat +and hat, a red feather, some tobacco, and this medal. Tell him that +when we get ready we’ll make a talk with him.”</p> + +<p>But Black Buffalo and his men were not in the mood to wait for their +parley. They crowded down to the bank angrily, excitedly, even after +they had received the presents sent them. Lewis, busy about the barge, +which had not yet found a good landing-place, turned at the sound of +his friend’s voice, to see Clark struggling in the grasp of two or +three of the Sioux, among them the Teton chief. A savage had his hand +flung about the mast of the pirogue, others laid hold upon the +painter. Clark, flushed and angry at the touch of another man’s hand, +had whipped out his sword, and the Indians were drawing their bows +from their cases.</p> + +<p>At that moment Lewis gave a loud order, which arrested them all. The +Sioux turned toward the barge, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span>to see the black mouth of the great +swivel gun pointing at them—the gun whose thunder voice they had +heard.</p> + +<p>“Big medicine!” called out Black Buffalo in terror, and ordered his +men back.</p> + +<p>Clark offered his hand to Black Buffalo, but it was refused. Angry, he +sprang into the pirogue and pushed off for the barge. Three of the +Indians stepped into the pirogue with him, jabbering excitedly, and, +with Clark, went aboard the barge, where they made themselves very +much at home.</p> + +<p>“<i>Croyez moi!</i>” ejaculated Drouillard. “These Hinjun, she’ll think he +own this country!”</p> + +<p>Here, then, they were, in the Teton country. No sleep that night for +either of the leaders, nor for any of the men. They pulled the +pirogues alongside the barge and sat, barricaded behind their goods, +rifle in hand.</p> + +<p>They kept their visitors prisoners all that night, and whatever might +have been the construction the Tetons placed on their act, they +themselves by dawn were far more placable. Continually they motioned +that the whites should come ashore, that they must stop, that they +must not go on further up the river. But when all was prepared for the +start on the following morning, Lewis ordered the great cable of the +barge cast off.</p> + +<p>Black Buffalo in turn ordered his men to lay hold upon it and retain +the boat. Once more the Indians began to draw their bows. Once more +Lewis turned upon them the muzzle of his cannon. His men shook the +priming into their pieces, and made ready to fire. An instant, and +much blood might have been shed.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span></p><p>“Black Buffalo,” said Lewis, as best he might through his interpreter, +“I heard you were a chief. You are not Black Buffalo, but some squaw! +We are going to see if we can find Black Buffalo, the real chief. If +he were here, he would accept our tobacco. The geese are flying down +the river. Soon the snow will come. We cannot wait. See, I give you +this tobacco on the prairie. Go and see if you can find Black Buffalo, +the real chief!”</p> + +<p>“Ha!” exclaimed the Teton leader, his dignity outraged. “You say I am +not Black Buffalo—that I am not a chief. I will show you!”</p> + +<p>He caught the twists of good black Virginia tobacco tossed to him, and +cast the rope far from him upon the tawny flood of the Missouri. An +instant later the oars had caught the water and Cruzatte had spread +the bowsail of the barge. So they won through one more of the most +dangerous of the tribes against whom they had been warned.</p> + +<p>“A near thing, Merne!” said Will Clark after a time. “There is some +mighty Hand that seems to guide us—is it not the truth?”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="Second_CHAPTER_IV" id="Second_CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>THE CROSSROADS OF THE WEST</h3> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">T</span>he geese were now indeed flying down the river, coming in long, dark +lines out of the icy north. Sometimes the sky was overcast hours at a +stretch. A new note came into the voice of the wind. The nights grew +colder.</p> + +<p>Autumn was at hand. Soon it would be winter—winter on the plains. It +was late in October, more than five months out from St. Louis, when +Mr. Jefferson’s “Volunteers for the Discovery of the West” arrived in +the Mandan country.</p> + +<p>Long ago war and disease wiped out the gentle Mandan people. Today two +cities stand where their green fields once showed the first broken +soil north of the Platte River. But a century ago that region, +although little known to our government at Washington, was not unknown +to others. The Mandan villages lay at a great wilderness crossroads, +or rather at the apex of a triangle, beyond which none had gone.</p> + +<p>Hereabout the Sieur de la Verendrye had crossed on his own journey of +exploration two generations earlier. More lately the emissaries of the +great British companies, although privately warring with one another, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span>had pushed west over the Assiniboine. Traders had been among the +Mandans now for a decade. Thus far came the Western trail from Canada, +and halted.</p> + +<p>The path of the Missouri also led thus far, but here, at the +intersection, ended all the trails of trading or traveling white men. +Therefore, Lewis and Clark found white men located here before +them—McCracken, an Irishman; Jussaume, a Frenchman; Henderson, an +Englishman; La Roque, another Frenchman—all over from the Assiniboine +country; and all, it hardly need be said, excited and anxious over +this wholly unexpected arrival of white strangers in their own +trading-limits.</p> + +<p>Big White, chief of the Mandans, welcomed the new party as friends, +for he was quick to grasp the advantage the white men’s goods gave his +people over the neighboring tribes, and also quick to understand the +virtue of competition.</p> + +<p>“Brothers,” said he, “you have come for our beaver and our robes. As +for us, we want powder and ball and more iron hatchets and knives. We +have traded with the Assiniboines, who are foolish people, and have +taken all their goods away from them. We have killed the Rees until we +are tired of killing them. The Sioux will not trouble us if we have +plenty of powder and ball. We know that you have come to trade with +us. See, the snow is here. Light your lodge fires with the Mandans. +Stay here until the grass comes once more!”</p> + +<p>“We open our ears to what Big White has said,” replied Lewis—speaking +through Jussaume, the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span>Frenchman, who soon was added as interpreter to +the party. “We are the children of a Great Father in the East, who +gives you this medal with his picture on it. He sends you this coat, +this hat of a chief. He gives you this hatchet, this case of tobacco. +There are other hatchets and more tobacco for your people.”</p> + +<p>“What Great Father is that?” demanded Big White. “It seems there are +many Great Fathers in these days! Who are you strangers, who come from +so far?”</p> + +<p>“You yourself shall judge, Big White. When the geese fly up the river +and the grass is green, our great boat here is going back down the +river. The Great Father is curious to know his children, the Mandans. +If you, Big White, wish to go to see him when the grass is green, you +shall sit yonder in that boat and go all the way with some of my men. +You shall shake his hand. When you come back, you can tell the story +to your own people. Then all the tribes will cease to wage war. Your +women once more may take off their moccasins at night when they +sleep.”</p> + +<p>“It is good,” said the Mandan. “<i>Ahaie!</i> Come and stay with us until +the grass is green, and I will make medicine over what you say. We +will open our lodges to you, and will not harm you. Our young women +will carry you corn which they have saved for the winter. Our squaws +will feed your horses. Go no farther, for the snow and ice are coming +fast. Even the buffalo will be thin, and the elk will grow so lean +that they will not be good to eat. This is as far as the white men +ever come when the grass is green. Beyond this, no man knows the +trails.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span></p><p>“When the grass is green,” said Lewis, “I shall lead my young men +toward the setting sun. We shall make new trails.”</p> + +<p>Jussaume, McCracken, and all the others held their own council with +the leaders of the expedition.</p> + +<p>“What are you doing here?” they demanded. “The Missouri has always +belonged to the British traders.”</p> + +<p>The face of Meriwether Lewis flushed with anger.</p> + +<p>“We are about the business of our government,” he said. “It is our +purpose to discover the West beyond here, all of it. It is our own +country that we are discovering. We have bought it and paid for it, +and will hold it. We carry the news of the great purchase to the +natives.”</p> + +<p>“Purchase? What purchase?” demanded McCracken.</p> + +<p>And then the face of Lewis lightened, for he knew that they had outrun +all the news of the world!</p> + +<p>“The Louisiana Purchase—the purchase of all this Western country from +the Mississippi to the Pacific, across the Stony Mountains. We bought +it from Napoleon, who had it from Spain. We are the wedge to split the +British from the South—the Missouri is our own pathway into our own +country. That is our business here!”</p> + +<p>“You must go back!” said the hot-headed Irishman. “I shall tell my +factor, Chaboillez, at Fort Assiniboine. We want no more traders here. +This is our country!”</p> + +<p>“We do not come to trade,” said Meriwether Lewis. “We play a larger +game. I know that the men of the Northwest Company have found the +Arctic Ocean—you <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span>are welcome to it until we want it—we do not want +it now. I know you have found the Pacific somewhere above the +Columbia—we do not want what we have not bought or found for +ourselves, and you are welcome to that. But when you ask us to turn +back on our own trail, it is a different matter. We are on our own +soil now, and we will not turn for any order in the world but that of +the President of the United States!”</p> + +<p>McCracken, irritated, turned away from the talk.</p> + +<p>“It is a fine fairy tale they tell us!” said he to his fellows.</p> + +<p>Drouillard came a moment later to his chief.</p> + +<p>“Those men she’ll take her dog-team for Assiniboine now—maybe so one +hundred and fifty miles that way. He’ll told his factor now, on the +Assiniboine post.”</p> + +<p>Lewis smiled.</p> + +<p>“Tell him to take this letter to his factor, Drouillard,” said he. “It +is a passport given me by Mr. Thompson, representing Mr. Merry, of the +British Legation at Washington. I have fifty other passports, better +ones, each good at a hundred yards. If Mr. Chaboillez wishes to find +us, he can do so. If we have gone, let him come after us in the +spring.”</p> + +<p>“My faith,” said Jussaume, the Frenchman, “you come a long way! Why +you want to go more farther West? But, listen, <i>Monsieur +Capitaine</i>—the Englishman, he’ll go to make trouble for you. He is +going for send word to Rocheblave, the most boss trader on Lake +Superior, on Fort William. They are going for send a man to beat you +over the mountain—I know!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></p><p>“’Tis a long road from here to the middle of Lake Superior’s north +shore,” said Meriwether Lewis. “It will be a long way back from there +in the spring. While they are planning to start, already we shall be +on our way.”</p> + +<p>“I know the man they’ll send,” went on Jussaume. “Simon Fraser—I know +him. Long time he’ll want to go up the Saskatchewan and over the +mountain on the ocean.”</p> + +<p>“We’ll race Mr. Fraser to the ocean,” said Meriwether Lewis; “him or +any other man. While he plans, we shall be on our way!”</p> + +<p>Well enough the Northern traders knew the meaning of this American +expedition into the West. If it went on, all the lower trade was lost +to Great Britain forever. The British minister, Merry, had known it. +Aaron Burr had known it. This expedition must be stopped! That was the +word which must go back to Montreal, back to London, along the trail +which ended here at the crossroads of the Missouri.</p> + +<p>“The red-headed young man is not so bad,” said one of the white +news-bearers at the Assiniboine post. “He is willing to parley, and he +seems disposed to be amiable. But the other, the one named Lewis—I +can do nothing with him. For some reason he seems to be hostile to the +British interests. He speaks well, and is a man of presence and +education, but he is bitter against us, and I cannot handle him. We +must use force to stop that man!”</p> + +<p>“Agreed, then!” said his master, laughing lustily, for, safe in his +own sanctuary, he had not seen these <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span>men himself. “We shall use +force, as we have before. We will excite the savages against them this +winter. If they will listen to us, and turn back in the spring—all of +them, not part of them—very well. If they will not listen to reason, +then we shall use such means as we need to stop them.”</p> + +<p>Of this conversation the two young American officers, one of Virginia, +the other of Kentucky, knew nothing at all. But they held council of +their own, as was their fashion—a council of two, sitting by their +camp fire; and while others talked, they acted.</p> + +<p>Before November was a week old, the axes were ringing among the +cottonwoods. The men were carrying big logs toward the cleared space +shown to them, and while Meriwether Lewis worked at his journal and +his scientific records, William Clark, born soldier and born engineer, +was going forward with his little fortress.</p> + +<p>Trenches were cut, the logs were ended up—taller pickets than any one +of that country ever had seen before. A double row of cabins was built +inside the stockade. A great gate was furnished, proof against +assault. A bastion was erected in one corner, mounting the swivel +piece so that it might be fired above the top of the wall. A little +more work of chinking the walls, of flooring the cabins, of making +chimneys of wattle and clay—and <i>presto</i>, before the winter had well +settled down, the white explorers were housed and fortified and ready +for what might come.</p> + +<p>The Mandans sat and watched them in wonder. Jussaume, the French +trader, shook his head. In all <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span>his experience on the trail he had +seen nothing savoring quite so much of preparedness and celerity.</p> + +<p>Among all the posts to the northward and eastward the word went out, +carried by dog runners.</p> + +<p>“They have built a great house of tall logs,” said the Indians. “They +have put the thing that thunders on top of the wall. They never sleep. +Each day they exercise with their rifles under their arms. They have +long knives on their belts. They carry hatchets that are sharp enough +to shave bark. Their medicine is strong!</p> + +<p>“They write down the words of the Mandans and the Minnetarees in their +books. They are taking skins of the antelope and the bighorn and the +deer, even skins of the prairie-grouse and the badger and the +prairie-dog—everything they can get. They dry these, to make some +sort of medicine of them. They cut off pieces of wood and bark. They +put the dirt which burns in little sacks. They make pictures and make +the talking papers—all the time they work at something, the two +chiefs. They have a black man with them who cannot be washed +white—they have stained him with some medicine of their own. He makes +sounds like a buffalo, and he says that the white man made him as he +is and will do us that way. We would like to kill them, but they have +made their house too strong!</p> + +<p>“They never sleep. In the daytime and in the nighttime, no matter how +cold it is, one man, two men, walk up and down inside the wall. They +have carried their boats up out of the water—two boats, a great one +and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span>two small. All through the woods they are cutting down the +largest trees, and out of the straight logs they are making more +boats, more boats, as many as there are fingers on one hand. They have +axes that cast much larger chips than any we ever saw. We fear these +men, because they do not fear us. We do not know what to think. They +are men who never sleep. Before the sun is up we find them writing or +making large chips with their axes, or hunting in the woods—not a day +goes by that their hunters do not bring in elk and deer and buffalo. +They do not fear us.</p> + +<p>“We have seen no men like these. They are chiefs, and their medicine +is strong!”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="Second_CHAPTER_V" id="Second_CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>THE APPEAL</h3> + +<p style="float: left; font-size: 100%; line-height: 80%; margin-top: 0;">“</p><p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">W</span>ell done, Will Clark!” said Meriwether Lewis, when, at length, one +cold winter morning, they stood within the walls of the completed +fortress. “Now we can have our own fireplace and go on with our work +in comfort. The collection is growing splendidly!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Mr. Jefferson will find that we have been busy,” rejoined Clark. +“The barge will go down well loaded in the spring. They’ll have the +best of it—downhill, and over country they have crossed.”</p> + +<p>“True,” mused Lewis. “We are at a blank wall here. We lack a guide +now, that is sure. Two interpreters we have, who may or may not be of +use, but no one knows the country. But now—you know our other new +interpreter, the sullen chap, Charbonneau—that polygamous scamp with +two or three Indian wives?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, and a surly brute he is!”</p> + +<p>“Well, it seems that last summer Charbonneau married still another +wife, a girl not over sixteen years of age, I should judge. He bought +her—she was a slave, a captive brought down from somewhere up the +river <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span>by a war-party. She is a pleasant girl, and always smiles. She +seems friendly to us—see the moccasins she made for me but now. And I +only had to knock her husband down once for beating her!”</p> + +<p>“Lucky man!” grinned William Clark. “I have knocked him down half a +dozen times, and she has made me no moccasins at all. But what then?”</p> + +<p>“So far as I can learn, that Indian girl is the only human being here +who has ever seen the Stony Mountains. The girl says that she was +taken captive years ago somewhere near the summit of the Stony +Mountains. Above here a great river comes in, which they call the +Yellow Rock River—the ‘Ro’jaune,’ Jussaume calls it. Very well. Many +days’or weeks’ journey toward the west, this river comes again within +a half-day’s march of the Missouri. That is near the summit of the +mountains; and this girl’s people live there.”</p> + +<p>“By the Lord, Merne, you’re a genius for getting over new country!”</p> + +<p>“Wait. I find the child very bright—very clear of mind. And listen, +Will—the mind of a woman is better for small things than that of a +man. They pick up trifles and hang on to them. I’d as soon trust that +girl for a guide out yonder as any horse-stealing warrior in a hurry +to get into a country and in a hurry to get out of it again. Raiding +parties cling to the river-courses, which they know; but she and her +people must have been far to the west of any place these adventurers +of the Minnetarees ever saw. Sacajawea she calls herself—the ‘Bird +Woman.’ I swear I look upon that name itself as a good omen! She <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span>has +come back like a dove to the ark, this Bird Woman. William Clark, we +shall reach the sea—or, at least, you will do so, Will,” he +concluded.</p> + +<p>“What do you mean, Merne? Surely, if I do, you will also!”</p> + +<p>“I cannot be sure.”</p> + +<p>The florid face of William Clark showed a frown of displeasure.</p> + +<p>“You are not as well as you should be—you work too much. That is not +just to Mr. Jefferson, Merne, nor to our men, nor to me.”</p> + +<p>“It was for that reason I took you on. Doesn’t a man have two lungs, +two arms, two limbs, two eyes? We are those for Mr. Jefferson—even +crippled, the expedition will live. You are as my own other hand. I +exult to see you every morning smiling out of your blankets, hopeful +and hungry!”</p> + +<p>Meriwether Lewis turned to his colleague with the sweet smile which +sometimes his friends saw.</p> + +<p>“You see, I am a fatalist,” he went on. “Ah, you laugh at me! My +people must have been owners of the second sight, I have often told +you. Humor me, Will, bear with me. Don’t question me too deep. Your +flag, Will, I know will be planted on the last parapet of life—you +were born to succeed. For myself, I still must remember what my mother +told me—something about the burden which would be too heavy, the +trail which would be long. At times I doubt.”</p> + +<p>“Confound it, Merne, you have not been yourself since you got that +accursed letter in the night last summer!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p><p>“It was unsettling, I don’t deny.”</p> + +<p>“I pray Heaven you’ll never get another!” said William Clark. “From a +married woman, too! Thank God I’ve no such affair on my mind!”</p> + +<p>“It is taboo, Will—that one thing!”</p> + +<p>And Clark, growling anathemas on all women, stalked away to find his +axmen.</p> + +<p>The snows had come soft and deep, blown on the icy winds. The horses +of the Mandans were housed in the lodges, and lived on cottonwood +instead of grass. When the vast herds of buffalo came down from the +broken hills into the shelter of the flats, the men returned +frostbitten with their loads of meat. The sky was dark. The days were +short.</p> + +<p>To improve the morale of their men, the leaders now planned certain +festivities for them. On Christmas Eve each man had his stocking well +stuffed with such delicacies as the company stores afforded—pepper, +salt, dried fruits long cherished in the commissary, such other +knickknacks as might be spared.</p> + +<p>On Christmas Day Drouillard brought out a fiddle. A dance was ordered, +and went on all day long on the puncheon floor of the main cabin. In +moccasins and leggings, with hair long and tunics belted close to +their lean waists, the white men danced to the tunes of their own +land—the reels and hoedowns of old Virginia and Kentucky.</p> + +<p>The sounds of revelry were heard by the Mandans who came up to the +gate.</p> + +<p>“White men make a medicine dance,” they said, and knocked for +entrance.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p><p>Two women only were present—the wife of Jussaume, the squaw man, and +Sacajawea, the girl wife of Charbonneau, the interpreter of the +Mandans. These two had many presents.</p> + +<p>The face of Sacajawea was wreathed in smiles. Always her eyes followed +the tall form of Meriwether Lewis wherever he went. Her own husband +was but her husband, and already she had elected Meriwether Lewis as +her deity. When her husband thrashed her, always he thrashed her +husband.</p> + +<p>In her simple child’s soul she consecrated herself to the task which +he had assigned her. Yes, when the grass came she would take these +white men to her own people. If they wanted to see the salt waters far +to the west—her people had heard of that—then they should go there +also. The Bird Woman was very happy that Christmas Day. The chief had +thrashed Charbonneau and had given her wonderful presents!</p> + +<p>All the men danced but one—the youth Shannon, who once more had met +misfortune. While hewing with the broadax at one of the canoes, he had +had the misfortune to slash his foot, so must lie in his bunk and +watch the others.</p> + +<p>“Keep the men going, Will,” said Meriwether Lewis. “I’ll go to my room +and get forward some letters which I want to write—to my mother and +to Mr. Jefferson. At least I can date them Christmas Day, although +Providence alone knows when they may be despatched or received!”</p> + +<p>He returned to his own quarters, where he had erected a little desk at +which he sometimes worked, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span>and sat down. For a moment he remained in +thought, as the sound of the dancing still came to him, glad to find +his men so happy. At length he spread open the back of his little +leather writing-case, unscrewed his ink-horn and set it safe, drew his +keen hunting-knife, and put a point upon a goose-quill pen. Then he +put away the many written pages which still lay in the portfolio, the +product of his daily labors.</p> + +<p>Searching for fair white paper, his eye caught sight of a sealed and +folded letter, apparently long unnoticed here among the written and +unwritten sheets. In a flash he knew what it was! Once more the blood +in his veins seemed to stop short.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">TO CAPTAIN MERIWETHER LEWIS, IN CHARGE OF THE VOLUNTEERS FOR +THE DISCOVERY OF THE WEST.—ON THE TRAIL.</span></p></div> + +<p>He knew what hand had written the words. For one short instant he had +a mad impulse to cast the letter into the fire. Then there came over +him once more the feeling which oppressed him all his life—that he +was a helpless instrument in the hands of fate. He broke the seal—not +noticing as he did so that it had a number scratched into the wax—and +read the letter, which ran thus:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Sir and Friend:</span></p> + +<p>I know not where these presents may find you, or in what +case. Once more I keep my promise not to let you go. Once +more you shall see my face—see, it is looking up at you +from the page! Tell me, do you see me now before you?</p> + +<p>Are other faces of women in your mind? Have they lost +themselves as women’s faces so often—so soon—are lost from +a man’s mind? Can you see me, Meriwether Lewis, your +childhood friend?</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span>Do you remember the time you saved me from the cows in the +lane at your father’s farm, when I was but a child, on my +first visit to far-off Virginia? You kissed me then, to dry +my tears. You were a boy; I was a child yet younger. Can you +forget that time—can you forget what you said?</p> + +<p>“I will always be there, Theodosia,” you said, “when you are +in trouble!”</p> + +<p>You said it stoutly, and I believed it, as a child.</p> + +<p>I believed you then—I believe you now. I still have the +same child’s faith in you. My mother died while I was young; +my father has always been so busy—I scarcely have been a +girl, as you say you never were a boy. You know my +husband—he has his own affairs. But you always were my +friend, in so many ways!</p> + +<p>It is true that I am laying a secret on your heart—one +which you must observe all your life. My letter is for you, +and for no other eyes. But now I come once more to you to +hold you to your promise.</p> + +<p><i>Meriwether Lewis, come back to us!</i> By this time the trail +surely is long enough! We are counting absolutely on your +return. I heard Mr. Merry tell my father—and I may tell it +to you—that on your recall rested all hope of the success +of our own cause on the lower Mississippi—for ourselves and +for you. If you do not come back to us, as early as you can, +you condemn us to failure—myself—my life—that of my +father—yourself also.</p> + +<p>Perhaps your delay may mean even more, Meriwether Lewis. I +have to tell you that times are threatening for this +republic. Relations between our country and Great Britain +are strained to the breaking-point. Mr. Merry says that if +our cause on the lower Mississippi shall not prevail, his +own country, as soon as it can finish with Napoleon, will +come against this republic once more—both on the Great +Lakes and at the mouth of the Mississippi. He says that your +expedition into the West will split the country, if it goes +on. It must be withdrawn or the gap must be mended by war. +You see, then, one of the sure results of this mad folly of +Thomas Jefferson.</p> + +<p>Go on, therefore, if you would ruin me, my father—your own +future; but will you go on if you face possible ruin <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span><i>for +your own country</i> by so doing? This I leave for you to say.</p> + +<p>Surely by now the main object of your expedition will have +been accomplished—surely you may return with all practical +results of your labors in your hands. Were that not a wiser +thing? Does not your duty lie toward the east, and not +further toward the west? There is a limit beyond which not +even a forlorn hope is asked to go when it assails a +citadel. Not every general is dishonored, though he does not +complete the campaign laid out for him. Expeditions have +failed, and will fail, with honor. Leaders of men have +failed, will fail, with honor. I do not call it failure for +you to return to us and let the expedition go on. There is a +limit to what may be asked of a man. There are two of you +for Mr. Jefferson; but for us there is only one—it is +Captain Lewis. And—how shall I say it and not be +misunderstood?—there is but one for her whose face you see, +I hope, on this page.</p> + +<p>What limit is there to the generosity of a man like +you—what limit to his desire to pay each duty, to keep each +promise that he has made in all his life? Will such a man +forget his promise always to kiss away the tears of that +companion to whom he has come in rescue? I am in trouble. +Tears are in my eyes as I write. Do you forget that promise? +Do you wish to make yet happier the woman whom you have so +many times made happy—who has cherished so much ambition +for you?</p> + +<p>Meriwether Lewis, my friend—you who would have been my +lover—for whom there is no hope, since fate has been so +unkind—come back to us in your generosity! Come back to me, +even in your hopelessness! Will you always see me with tears +in my eyes? Do you see me now? I swear tears fall even as I +write. And you promised always to kiss my tears away!</p> + +<p>Farewell until I see you again. May good fortune attend you +always, wherever you go—in whatever direction you may +travel—from us or toward us—from me or with me!</p></div> + +<p>Meriwether Lewis sat, his face between his hands, staring down at what +he saw. Should he go on, or <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span>should he hand over all to William Clark +and return—return to keep his promise—return to comfort, as best he +might, with the gift of all his life, that face which indeed he had +left in tears by an unpardonable act of his own?</p> + +<p>He owed her everything she could ask of him. What must she think of +him now—that he was not only a dishonorable man, but also a coward +running away from the responsibility of what he had done? No blow from +the hands of fate could have given him more exquisite agony than this.</p> + +<p>For a long time—he never knew how long—he sat thus, staring, +pondering, but at length with sudden energy he rose and flung open the +door of the dancing-room.</p> + +<p>“Will!” he called to his companion.</p> + +<p>When William Clark joined his friend in the outer air, he saw the open +letter in Lewis’s hand—saw also the distress upon his countenance.</p> + +<p>“Merne, it’s another letter from that woman! I wish I had her here, +that I might wring her neck!” said William Clark viciously. “Who +brought it?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know.”</p> + +<p>Meriwether Lewis was folding up the letter. He placed it in the pocket +of his coat with its fellow, received months ago.</p> + +<p>“Will,” said he at length, “don’t you recall what I was telling you +this very morning? I felt something coming—I felt that fate had +something more for me. You know I spoke in doubt.”</p> + +<p>“Listen, Merne!” replied William Clark. “There <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span>is no woman in the +world worth the misery this one has put on you. It is a thing +execrable, unspeakable!”</p> + +<p>His friend looked him steadily in the eyes.</p> + +<p>“Rebuke not her, but me!” he said. “This letter asks me to come back +to kiss away a woman’s tears. Will, I was the cause of those tears. I +can tell you no more. What <i>I</i> did was a thing execrable, +unspeakable—I, your friend, did that!”</p> + +<p>William Clark, more genuinely troubled than ever in his life before, +was dumb.</p> + +<p>“My future is forfeited, Will,” went on the same even, dull voice, +which Clark could scarcely recognize; “but I have decided to go on +through with you.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="Second_CHAPTER_VI" id="Second_CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>WHICH WAY?</h3> + +<p style="float: left; font-size: 100%; line-height: 80%; margin-top: 0;">“</p><p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">W</span>hich way, Will?” asked Meriwether Lewis. “Which is the river? If we +miss many guesses, the British will beat us through. Which is our +river here?”</p> + +<p>They stood at the junction of the Yellowstone with the Missouri, and +faced one of the first of their great problems. It was spring once +more. The geese were flying northward again; the grass was green. +Three weeks ago the ice had run clear, and they had left their winter +quarters among the Mandans.</p> + +<p>Five months they had spent at the Mandan village; for five months they +had labored to reach that place; for five months, or more, they had +lain at St. Louis. Time was passing. As Meriwether Lewis said, few +wrong guesses could be afforded.</p> + +<p>Early in April the great barge, manned by ten men, had set out down +stream, carrying with it the proof of the success of the expedition. +It bore many new things, precious things, things unknown to +civilization. Among these were sixty specimens of plants, as many of +minerals and earth, weapons of the Indians, examples of their +clothing, specimens of the corn and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span>other vegetables which they +raised, horns of the bighorn and the antelope—both animals then new +to science—antlers of the deer and elk, stuffed specimens, dried +skins, herbs, fruits, flowers; and with all these the broken story of +a new geography—the greatest story ever sent out for publication by +any man or men; and all done in Homeric simplicity.</p> + +<p>As the great barge had started down the river, the two pirogues which +had come so far, joined by the cottonwood dugouts laboriously +fabricated during the winter months, had started up the river, manned +by thirty-one men.</p> + +<p>With the pick of the original party, there had come but one woman, the +girl Sacajawea, with her little baby, born that winter at the Mandan +fortress. Sacajawea now had her place in the camp; she and her infant +were the pets of all. She sat in the sunlight, her baby in her lap, by +her side an Indian dog, a waif which Lewis had found abandoned in an +Indian encampment, and which had attached itself to him.</p> + +<p>Sacajawea smiled as the tall form of the captain came toward her. She +had already learned some of the words of his tongue, he some of hers.</p> + +<p>“Which way, Sacajawea?” asked Meriwether Lewis. “What river is this +which goes on to the left?”</p> + +<p>“Him Ro’shone,” replied the girl. “My man call him that. No good! +<i>Him</i>—big river”; and she pointed toward the right-hand stream.</p> + +<p>“As I thought, Will,” said Lewis, nodding; and again, to the Indian +girl: “Do you remember this place?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span></p><p>She nodded her head vigorously and smiled.</p> + +<p>“See!”</p> + +<p>With a pointed stick she began to sketch a map on the sand of the +river bar, showing how the Yellowstone flowed from the south—how, far +on ahead, its upper course bent toward the Missouri, with a march of +not more than a day between the two. The maps of this new world that +first came back to civilization were copies of Indians’ drawings made +with a pointed stick upon the earth, or with a coal on a whitened +hide.</p> + +<p>“She knows, Will!” said Lewis. “See, this place she marks near the +mountain summit, where the two streams are close—some time we must +explore that crossing!”</p> + +<p>“I’m sure I’d rather trust her map than this one, here, of old +Jonathan Carver,” answered Clark, the map-maker. “His idea of this +country is that four great rivers head about where we are now. He +marks the river Bourbon—which I never heard of—as running north to +Hudson Bay, but he has the St. Lawrence rising near here, too—and it +must be fifteen hundred or two thousand miles off to the east! The +Mississippi, too, he thinks heads about here, at the mouth of the +Yellowstone, and yonder runs the Oregon River, which I presume is the +Columbia. ’Tis all very simple, on Carver’s maps, but perhaps not +quite so easy, if we follow that of Sacajawea. This country is wider +than any of us ever dreamed.”</p> + +<p>“And greater, and more beautiful in every way,” assented his +companion.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p><p>They stood and gazed about them at the scene of wild beauty. The river +ran in long curves between bold and sculptured bluffs, among groves of +native trees, now softly green. Above, on the prairies, lay a carpet +of the shy wild rose, most beautiful of the prairie blossoms. All +about were shrubs and flowers, now putting forth their claims in the +renewed life of spring.</p> + +<p>On the plains fed the buffalo, far as the eye could reach. Antelope, +deer, the shy bighorn, all these might be seen, and the footprints of +the giant bears along the beaches. It was the wilderness, and it was +theirs—they owned it all!</p> + +<p>Thus far they had seen no sign of any human occupancy. They did not +meet a single human being, red or white, all that summer. A vast, +silent, unclaimed land, beautiful and abounding, lay waiting for +occupancy. There was no map of it—none save that written on the soil +now and then by an Indian girl sixteen years of age.</p> + +<p>They plodded on now, taking the right-hand stream, with full +confidence in their guidance, forging onward a little every day, +between the high banks of the swift river that came down from the +great mountains. April passed, and May.</p> + +<p>“Soon we see the mountains!” insisted Sacajawea.</p> + +<p>And at last, two months out from the Mandans, Lewis looked westward +from a little eminence and saw a low, broken line, white in spots, not +to be confused with the lesser eminences of the near by landscape.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span></p><p>“It is the mountains!” he exclaimed. “There lie the Stonies. They do +exist! We shall surely reach them! We have won!”</p> + +<p>Not yet had they won. These shining mountains lay a long distance to +the westward; and yet other questions were to be settled ere they +might be reached.</p> + +<p>Within a week they came to yet another forking of the stream. A strong +river came boiling down from the north, of color and depth much +similar to that of the Missouri they had known. On the left ran a less +turbulent and clearer stream. Which was the way?</p> + +<p>“The north wan, she’ll be the right wan, <i>Capitaine</i>,” said Cruzatte, +himself a good voyageur.</p> + +<p>Most of the men agreed with him. The leaders recalled that the Mandans +had said that the Missouri after a time grew clear in color, and that +it would lead to the mountains. Which, now, was the Missouri?</p> + +<p>They found the moccasin of an Indian not far from here.</p> + +<p>“Blackfoot!” said Sacajawea, and pointed to the north, shaking her +head.</p> + +<p>She insisted that the left-hand river was the right one; but, +unwilling as yet to rely on her fully, the leaders called a council of +the men, and listened to their arguments.</p> + +<p>They knew well enough that a wrong choice here might mean the failure +of their expedition. Cruzatte had many adherents. The men began to +mutter.</p> + +<p>“If we go up that left-hand stream we shall be <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span>lost among the +mountains,” one said. “We shall perish when the winter comes!”</p> + +<p>“We will go both ways,” said Meriwether Lewis at length. “Captain +Clark will explore the lower fork, while I go up the right-hand +stream. We will meet here when we know the truth.”</p> + +<p>So Lewis traveled two days’ journey up the right-hand fork before he +turned back, thoughtful.</p> + +<p>“I have decided,” said he to the men who accompanied him. “This stream +will lead us far to the north, into the British country. It cannot be +the true Missouri. I shall call this Maria’s River, after my cousin in +Virginia, Maria Woods. I shall not call it the Missouri.”</p> + +<p>He met Clark at the fork of the river, and again they held a council. +The men were still dissatisfied. Clark had advanced some distance up +the left-hand stream.</p> + +<p>“We must prove it yet further,” said Meriwether Lewis. “Captain Clark, +do you remain here, while I go on ahead far enough to know absolutely +whether we are right or wrong. If we are not right in our choice, it +is as the men say—we shall fail! But where is Sacajawea?” he added. +“I will ask her once more.”</p> + +<p>Sacajawea was ill; she was in a fever. She could not talk to her +husband; but to Lewis she talked, and always she said, “That way! By +and by, big falls—um-m-m, um-m-m!”</p> + +<p>“Guard her well,” said Lewis anxiously. “Much depends on her. I must +go on ahead.”</p> + +<p>He took the French interpreter, Drouillard, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span>three of the +Kentuckians, and started on up the left-hand stream with one boat. The +current of the river seemed to stiffen. It cost continually increasing +toil to get the boat upstream. They were gone for several days, and no +word came back from them.</p> + +<p>Meantime, at the river forks, William Clark was busy. It was obvious +that the explorers must lighten the loads of their boats. They began +to cache all the heavy goods with which they could dispense—their +tools, the extra lead and powder-tins, some of the flour, all the +heavy stuff which would encumber them most seriously. Here, too, was +the end of the journey of the red pirogue from St. Louis—they hid it +in the willows of an island near the mouth of Maria’s River.</p> + +<p>Lewis himself, weak from toil, fell ill on the way, but still he would +not stop. He came to a point from which he could see the mountains +plainly on ahead. The river was narrow, flowing through a cañon.</p> + +<p>The next day they came to the foot of the Great Falls of the Missouri, +alone, majestic here in the wilderness, soundless save for their own +dashing—those wonderful cascades, now so well known in industry, so +nearly forgotten in history.</p> + +<p>“The girl was right—this is the river!” said Lewis to his men. “It +comes from the mountains. We are right!”</p> + +<p>Cascade after cascade, rapid after rapid, he pushed on to the head of +the great drop of the Missouri, where it plunges down from its upper +valley for its long journey through the vast plains.</p> + +<p>Now word went down to the mouth of Maria’s <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span>River; but the messenger +met Clark already toiling upward with his boats, for he had guessed +the cause of delay, and at last believed Sacajawea.</p> + +<p>“Make some boat-trucks, Will,” said Lewis, when at last they were all +encamped at the foot of the falls. “We shall have to portage twenty +miles of falls and rapids.”</p> + +<p>And William Clark, the ever-ready engineer, who always had a solution +for any problem in mechanics or in geography, went to work upon the +hardest task in transportation they yet had had.</p> + +<p>“We must leave more plunder here, Merne,” said he. “We can’t get into +the mountains with all this.”</p> + +<p>So again they cached some of their stores. They buried here the great +swivel piece which had “made the thunder” among so many savage tribes. +Also there were stored here the spring’s collection of animals and +minerals, certain books and maps not needed, and the great grindstone +which had come all the way from Harper’s Ferry. They were stripping +for their race.</p> + +<p>It took the party a full month to make the portage. They were worn to +the bone by the hard labor, scorched by the sun, and frozen by the +night winds.</p> + +<p>“We must go on!” was always the cry.</p> + +<p>All felt that the summer was going; none knew what might be on ahead.</p> + +<p>At the cost of greater and greater toil they pushed on up their river +above the falls, until presently its course bent off to the south +again. They passed through a country of such wealth as none of them +had <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span>ever dreamed of, but they did not suspect the hidden treasures of +gold and silver which lay so close to them on the floor of the +mountain valleys. What interested them more was the excitement of +Sacajawea, who from time to time pointed out traces of human +occupancy.</p> + +<p>“My people here!” said she, and pointed to camp-fires. “Plenty people +come here. Heap hunt buffalo!” She pointed out the trails made by the +lodge-poles.</p> + +<p>“She knows, Will!” said Lewis, once more. “We have a guide even here. +We are the luckiest of men!”</p> + +<p>“Soon we come where three rivers,” said Sacajawea one day. They had +passed to the south and west through the first range of +mountains—through that Gate of the Mountains near to the rich gold +fields of the future State of Montana. “By and by, three rivers—I +know!”</p> + +<p>And it was as she had said. The men, wearied to the limit by the toil +of getting the boats upstream by line and setting pole, at last found +their mountain river broken into three separate streams.</p> + +<p>“We will camp here,” said the leader. “We are tired, we have worked +long and hard!”</p> + +<p>“My people come here,” said Sacajawea, “plenty time. Here the +Minnetarees struck my people—five snows ago that was. They caught me +and took me with them, so I find Charbonneau among the Mandans. Here +my people live!”</p> + +<p>Without hesitation she pointed out that one of the three forks of the +Missouri which led off to the westward—the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span>one that Meriwether Lewis +called the Jefferson.</p> + +<p>And now every man in the party felt that they were on the right path +as they turned into that stream; but at the Beaver Head Rock—well +known to all the Indians—they went into camp once more.</p> + +<p>“Captains make medicine now,” said Sacajawea to Charbonneau, her +husband.</p> + +<p>For once more the captains hesitated. There were many passes, many +valleys, many trails. Which was the way? The men grew sullen again.</p> + +<p>They lay in camp for days, sending out parties, feeling out the way; +but the explorers always came back uncertain. It was Clark who led +these scouting parties now, for Lewis was well-nigh broken down in +health.</p> + +<p>One night, alone, the leader sat by his little fire, thinking, +thinking, as so often he did now. The stars, unspeakably brilliant, +lit up the wild scene about him. This was the wilderness! He had +sought it all his life. All his life it had called to him aloud. What +had it done for him, after all? Had it taught him to forget?</p> + +<p>Two years now had passed, and still he saw a face which would not go +away. Still there arose before him the same questions whose debate had +torn his soul, worn out his body, through these weary months.</p> + +<p>“You will be cold, sir,” said one of the men solicitously, as he +passed on his way to guard mount. “Shall I fetch your coat?”</p> + +<p>Lewis thanked him, and the man brought from his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span>tent the captain’s +uniform coat, which he had forgotten. Absently he sought to put it on, +and felt something crinkling in the sleeve. It was a bit of paper.</p> + +<p>He halted, the old presentiment coming to his mind.</p> + +<p>“Is Shannon here?” he asked of the man who had handed him the coat. +“He was to get my moccasins mended for me.”</p> + +<p>“No, captain, he is out with Captain Clark,” replied Fields, the +Kentuckian.</p> + +<p>“Very well—that will do, Fields.”</p> + +<p>Meriwether Lewis sat down again by his little fire, his last letter in +his hand. Gently he ran a finger along the seal—stooped over, kicked +together the embers of the fire, and saw scratched in the wax a +number. This was Number Three!</p> + +<p>He did not open it for a time. He looked at it—no longer in dread, +but in eagerness. It seemed to him, indeed, as if the letter had come +in response to the outcry of his soul—that it really had dropped from +the sky, manna for a hungry heart. It was the absence of this which +had worn him thin, left him the shadow of the man he should have been.</p> + +<p>Here, as he knew well, was one more summons to what seemed to him to +be a duty. And off to the west, shining cold in the night under the +stars, stood the mountains, beckoning. Which was the way?</p> + +<p>He broke the seal slowly, with no haste, knowing that whatever the +letter said it could mean only more unhappiness to him. Yet he was +hungry for it as one who longs for a soothing drug.</p> + +<p>He pushed together yet more closely the burning <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span>sticks of his little +fire and bent over to read. It was very little that he saw written, +but it spoke to him like a voice in the night:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Come back to me—ah, come back! I need you. I implore you to +return!</p></div> + +<p>There was no address, no date, no signature. There was no means of +telling whence or how this letter had come to him, more than any of +the others.</p> + +<p>Go back to her—how could he, now? It was more than a year since these +words had been written! What avail now, if he did return? No, he had +delayed, he had gone on, and he had cost her—what? Perhaps her +happiness as well as his own, perhaps the success of herself and of +many others, perhaps his own success in life. Against that, what could +he measure?</p> + +<p>The white mountains on ahead made no reply to him. The stars glowed +cold and white above him, but they seemed like a thousand facets of +pitiless light turned upon his soul.</p> + +<p>The quavering howl of a wolf on a near by eminence sounded like a +voice to him, mocking, taunting, fiendish. Never, it seemed to him, +had any man been thus unhappy. Even the wilderness had failed him! In +a land of desolation he sat, a desolate soul.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="Second_CHAPTER_VII" id="Second_CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>THE MOUNTAINS</h3> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">W</span>hen William Clark returned from his three days’ scouting trip, his +forehead was furrowed with anxiety. His men were silent as they filed +into camp and cast down their knapsacks.</p> + +<p>“It’s no use, Merne,” said Clark, “we are in a pocket here. The other +two forks, which we called the Madison and the Gallatin, both come +from the southeast, entirely out of our course. The divide seems to +face around south of us and bend up again on the west. Who knows the +way across? Our river valley is gone. The only sure way seems +back—downstream.”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean?” demanded Meriwether Lewis quietly.</p> + +<p>“I scarce know. I am worn out, Merne. My men have been driven hard.”</p> + +<p>“And why not?”</p> + +<p>His companion remained silent under the apparent rebuke.</p> + +<p>“You don’t mean that we should return?” Lewis went on.</p> + +<p>“Why not, Merne?” said William Clark, sighing.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p><p>“Our men are exhausted. There are other years than this.”</p> + +<p>Meriwether Lewis turned upon his friend with the one flash of wrath +which ever was known between them.</p> + +<p>“Good Heavens, Captain Clark,” said he, “there is <i>not</i> any other year +than this! There is not any other month, or week, or day but this! It +is not for you or me to hesitate—within the hour I shall go on. We’ll +cross over, or we’ll leave the bones of every man of the expedition +here—this year—now!”</p> + +<p>Clark’s florid face flushed under the sting of his comrade’s words; +but his response was manful and just.</p> + +<p>“You are right,” said he at length. “Forgive me if for a moment—just +a moment—I seemed to question the possibility of going forward. Give +me a night to sleep. As I said, I am worn out. If I ever see Mr. +Jefferson again, I shall tell him that all the credit for this +expedition rests with you. I shall say that once I wavered, and that I +had no cause. You do not waver—yet I know what excuse you would have +for it.”</p> + +<p>“You are only weary, Will. It is my turn now,” said Meriwether Lewis; +and he never told his friend of this last letter.</p> + +<p>A moment later he had called one of his men.</p> + +<p>“McNeal,” said he, “get Reuben Fields, Whitehouse, and Goodrich. Make +light packs. We are going into the mountains!”</p> + +<p>The four men shortly appeared, but they were <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span>silent, morose, moody. +Those who were to remain in the camp shared their silence. Sacajawea +alone smiled as they departed.</p> + +<p>“That way!” said she, pointing; and she knew that her chief would find +the path.</p> + +<p>May we not wonder, in these later days, if any of us, who reap so +carelessly and so selfishly where others have plowed and sown, reflect +as we should upon the first cost of what we call our own? The fifteen +million dollars paid for the vast empire which these men were +exploring—that was little—that was naught. But ah, the cost in blood +and toil and weariness, in love and loyalty and faith, in daring and +suffering and heartbreak of those who went ahead! It was a few brave +leaders who furnished the stark, unflinching courage for us all.</p> + +<p>Sergeant Ordway, with Pryor and Gass, met in one of the many little +ominous groups that now began to form among the men in camp. Captain +Clark was sleeping, exhausted.</p> + +<p>“It stands to reason,” said Ordway, usually so silent, “that the way +across the range is up one valley to the divide and down the next +creek on the opposite side. That is the way we crossed the +Alleghanies.”</p> + +<p>Pryor nodded his head.</p> + +<p>“Sure,” said he, “and all the game-trails break off to the south and +southwest. Follow the elk!”</p> + +<p>“Is it so?” exclaimed Patrick Gass. “You think it aisy to find a way +across yonder range? And how d’ye know jist how the Alleghanies was +crossed first? Did they make it the first toime they thried? Things is +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span>aisy enough after they’ve been done <i>wance</i>—but it’s the first toime +that counts!”</p> + +<p>“There is no other way, Pat,” argued Ordway. “’Tis the rivers that +make passes in any mountain range.”</p> + +<p>“Which is the roight river, then?” rejoined Gass. “We’re lookin’ for +wan that mebbe is nowhere near here. S’pose we go to the top yonder +and take a creek down, and s’pose that creek don’t run the roight way +at all, but comes out a thousand miles to the southwest—where are you +then, I’d like to know? The throuble with us is we’re the first wans +to cross here, and not comin’ along after some one else has done the +thrick for us.”</p> + +<p>Pryor was willing to argue further.</p> + +<p>“All the Injuns have said the big river was over there somewhere.”</p> + +<p>“‘Somewhere’!” exclaimed Patrick Gass. “‘Somewhere’ is a mighty long +ways when we’re lost and hungry!”</p> + +<p>“Which is just what we are now,” rejoined Pryor. “The sooner we start +back the quicker we’ll be out of this.”</p> + +<p>“Pryor!” The square face of the Irishman hardened at once. “Listen to +me. Ye’re my bunkmate and friend, but I warn ye not to say that agin! +If ye said it where he could hear ye—that man ahead—do you know what +he would do to you?”</p> + +<p>“I ain’t particular. ’Tis time we took this thing into our own hands.”</p> + +<p>“It’s where we’re takin’ it <i>now</i>, Pryor!” said Gass ominously. “A +coort martial has set for less than that ye’ve said!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p><p>“Mebbe you couldn’t call one—I don’t know.”</p> + +<p>“Mebbe we couldn’t, eh? I mind me of a little settlement I had with +that man wance—no coort martial at all—me not enlisted at the toime, +and not responsible under the arthicles of war. I said to his face I +was of the belief I could lick him. I said it kindly, and meant no +harm, because at the time it seemed to me I could, and ’twould be a +pleasure to me. But boys, he hit me wan time, and when I came to I was +careless whether it was the arthicles of war or not had hit me. Listen +to me now, Pryor—and you, too, Ordway—a man like that is liable to +have judgment in his head as well as a punch in his arm. We’re safer +to folly him than to folly ourselves. Moreover, I want you to say to +your men that we will not have thim foregatherin’ around and talkin’ +any disrespect to their shuperiors. If we’re in a bad place, let us +fight our ways out. Let’s not turn back until we are forced. I never +did loike any rooster in the ring that would either squawk or run +away. That man yonder, on ahead, naded mighty little persuadin’ to +fight. I’m with him!”</p> + +<p>“Well, maybe you are right, Pat,” said Ordway after a time. And so the +mutiny once more halted.</p> + +<p>The tide changed quickly when it began to set the other way. Lewis led +an advance party across the range. One day, deep in the mountains, he +was sweeping the country with his spyglass, as was his custom. He gave +a sudden exclamation.</p> + +<p>“What is it, Captain?” asked Hugh McNeal. “Some game?”</p> + +<p>“No, a man—an Indian! Riding a good horse, too—that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span>means he has +more horses somewhere. Come, we will call to him!”</p> + +<p>The wild rider, however, had nothing but suspicion for the newcomers. +Staring at them, he wheeled at length and was away at top speed. Once +more they were alone, and none the better off.</p> + +<p>“His people are that way,” said Lewis. “Come!”</p> + +<p>But all that day passed, and that night, and still they found none of +the natives. But they began to see signs of Indians now, fresh tracks, +hoofprints of many horses. And thus finally they came upon two Indian +women and a child, whom the white men surprised before they were able +to escape. Lewis took up the child, and showed the mother that he was +a friend.</p> + +<p>“These are Shoshones,” said he to his men. “I can speak with them—I +have learned some of their tongue from Sacajawea. These are her +people. We are safe!”</p> + +<p>Sixty warriors met them, all mounted, all gorgeously clad. Again the +great peace pipe, again the spread blanket inviting the council. The +Shoshones showed no signs of hostility—the few words of their tongue +which Lewis was able to speak gave them assurance.</p> + +<p>“McNeal,” said Lewis, “go back now across the range, and tell Captain +Clark to bring up the men.”</p> + +<p>William Clark, given one night’s sleep, was his energetic self again, +and not in mind to lie in camp. He had already ordered camp broken, +more of the heavier articles cached, the canoes concealed here and +there along the stream and had pushed on after Lewis. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span>He met McNeal +coming down, bearing the tidings. Sacajawea ran on ahead in glee.</p> + +<p>“My people! My people!” she cried.</p> + +<p>They were indeed safe now. Sacajawea found her brother, the chief of +this band of Shoshones, and was made welcome. She found many friends +of her girlhood, who had long mourned her as dead. The girls and +younger women laughed and wept in turn as they welcomed her and her +baby. She was a great person. Never had such news as this come among +the Shoshones.<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span></p><p>All were now content to lie for a few days at the Shoshone village. A +brisk trade in Indian horses now sprang up—they would be footmen no +more.</p> + +<p>“Which way, Sacajawea?” Meriwether Lewis once more asked the Indian +girl.</p> + +<p>But now she only shook her head.</p> + +<p>“Not know,” said she. “These my people. They say big river that way. +Not know which way.”</p> + +<p>“Now, Merne,” said William Clark, “it’s my turn again. We have got to +learn the best way out from these mountains. If there is a big river +below, some of these valleys must run down to it. Their waters +probably flow to the Columbia. The Indians talk of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span>salmon and of +white men—they have heard of goods which must have been made by white +men. We are in touch with the Pacific here. I’ll get a guide and +explore off to the southwest. It looks better there.”</p> + +<p>“No good—no good!” insisted Sacajawea. “That way no good. My brother +say go that way.”</p> + +<p>She pointed to the north, and insisted that the party should go in +that direction.</p> + +<p>For a hundred miles Clark scouted down the headwaters of the Salmon +River, and at last turned back, to report that neither horse nor boat +ever could get through. At the Shoshone village, uneasy, the men were +waiting for him.</p> + +<p>“That way!” said Sacajawea, still pointing north.</p> + +<p>The Indian guide, who had served Clark unwillingly, at length admitted +that there was a trail leading across the mountains far up to the +northward.</p> + +<p>“We will go north,” said Lewis.</p> + +<p>They cached under the ashes of their camp fire such remaining articles +as they could leave behind them. They had now a band of fifty horses. +Partly mounted, mostly on foot, their half wild horses burdened, they +set out once more under the guidance of an old Shoshone, who said he +knew the way.</p> + +<p>Charbonneau wanted to remain with the Shoshones, and to keep with him +Sacajawea, his wife, so recently reunited to her people.</p> + +<p>“No!” said Sacajawea. “I no go back—I go with the white chief to the +water that tastes salt!” And it was so ordered.</p> + +<p>Their course lay along the eastern side of the lofty <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span>Bitter Root +Mountains. The going was rude enough, since no trail had ever been +here; but mile after mile, day after day, they stumbled through to +some point on ahead which none knew except the guide. They came on a +new tribe of Indians—Flatheads, who were as amazed and curious as the +Shoshones had been at the coming of these white men. They received the +explorers as friends—asked them to tarry, told them how dangerous it +was to go into the mountains.</p> + +<p>But haste was the order of the day, and they left the Flatheads, +rejoicing that these also told of streams to the westward up which the +salmon came. They had heard of white men, too, to the west, many years +before.</p> + +<p>Down the beautiful valley of the Bitter Root River, with splendid +mountains on either side, they pressed on, and on the ninth of +September, 1805, they stopped at the mouth of a stream coming down +from the heights to the west. Their old guide pointed up this valley.</p> + +<p>“There is a trail,” said he, “which comes across here. The Indians +come to reach the buffalo. On the farther side the water runs toward +the sunset.”</p> + +<p>They were at the eastern extremity of that ancient trail, later called +the Lolo Trail, known immemorially to the tribes on both sides of the +mountains. Laboriously, always pressing forward, they ascended the +eastern slopes of the great range, crossed the summit, found the clear +waters on the west side, and so came to the Kooskooskie or Clearwater +River, leading to the Snake. And always the natives marveled at these +white men, the first they ever had seen.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span></p><p>The old Indians still made maps on the sand for them, showing them how +they would come to the great river where the salmon came. They were +now among yet another people—the Nez Percés. With these also they +smoked and counciled, and learned that it would be easy for boats to +go all the way down to the great river which ran to the sea.</p> + +<p>“We will leave our horses here,” said Lewis. “We will take to the +boats once more.”</p> + +<p>So Gass and Bratton and Shields and all the other artisans fell to +fashioning dugouts from the tall pines and cedars, hewing and burning +and shaping, until at length they had transports for their scanty +store of goods. By the first week of October they were at the junction +of their river with the Snake. An old medicine man of the Nez Percés, +Twisted Hair, a man who also could make maps, had drawn them charts on +a white skin with a bit of charcoal. And on ahead, mounted runners of +the Indians rushed down to inform the tribes of the coming of these +strange people.</p> + +<p>It was no longer an exploration, but a reception for them now. Bands +of red men, who welcomed them, had heard of white men coming up from +the sea. White men had once lived by the Tim-Tim water, on the great +river of the salmon—so they had been told; but never had any living +Indian heard of white men coming across the great mountains from the +sunrise.</p> + +<p>“Will,” said Lewis, “it is done—we are safe now! We shall be first +across to the Columbia. This—” he shook the Nez Percés’ scrawled +hide—“is the map of a new world!”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="Second_CHAPTER_VIII" id="Second_CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>TRAIL’S END</h3> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">W</span>here lately had been gloom and despair there now reigned joy and +confidence. With the great mountains behind them, and this new, +pleasant and gentle land all around them, the spirits of the men rose +buoyantly.</p> + +<p>They could float easily down the strong current of the great Snake +River, laboring but little, if at all. They made long hours every day, +and by the middle of autumn they saw ahead of them a yet grander flood +than that of the noble river which was bearing them.</p> + +<p>At last they had found the Columbia! They had found what Mackenzie +never found, what Fraser was not to find—that great river, now to be +taken over with every right of double discovery by these messengers of +the young republic. How swelled their hearts, when at last they knew +this truth, unescapable, incontrovertible! It was theirs. They had +won!</p> + +<p>The men had grown reckless now. Cruzatte, Labiche, Drouillard—all the +adventurers—sang as they traveled, gayer and more gay from day to +day.</p> + +<p>Always the landscape had fascinating interest for them in its repeated +changes. They were in a different <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span>world. No one had seen the +mountains which they saw. The Rockies, the Bitter Roots—these they +had passed; and now they must yet pass through another range, this +time not by the toilsome process of foot or horse travel, but on the +strong flood of the river. The Columbia had made a trail for them +through the Cascades.</p> + +<p>Down the stormy rapids they plunged exulting. Mount Hood, St. Helen’s, +Rainier, Adams—all the lofty peaks of the great Cascades, so named at +a later date, appeared before them, around them, behind them, as they +swung into the last lap of their wild journey and headed down toward +the sea. Cruzatte, Labiche, Drouillard—all you others—time now, +indeed, for you to raise the song of the old voyageurs! None have come +so far as you—your paddles are wrinkling new waters. You are brave +men, every one, and yours is the reward of the brave!</p> + +<p>Soon, so said the Indians, they would come to ships—canoes with trees +standing in them, on which teepees were hung.</p> + +<p>“Me,” said Cruzatte, “I never in my whole life was seen a sheep! I +will be glad for see wan now.”</p> + +<p>But they found no ship anywhere in the lower Columbia. All the shores +were silent, deserted; no vessel lay at anchor. Before them lay the +empty river, wide as a sea, and told no tales of what had been. They +were alone, in the third year out from home. Thousands of leagues they +had traveled, and must travel back again.</p> + +<p>Here they saw many gulls. As to Columbus these <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span>birds had meant land, +to our discoverers they meant the sea. Forty miles below the last +village they saw it—rolling in solemn, white-topped waves beyond the +bar.</p> + +<p>Every paddle ceased at its work, and the boats lay tossing on the +incoming waves. There was the end of the great trail. Yonder lay the +Pacific!</p> + +<p>Meriwether Lewis turned and looked into the eyes of William Clark, who +sat at the bow of the next canoe. Each friend nodded to the other. +Neither spoke. The lips of both were tight.</p> + +<p>“The big flag, Sergeant Gass!” said Lewis.</p> + +<p>They turned ashore. There had been four mess fires at each encampment +thus far—those of the three sergeants and that of the officers; but +now, as they huddled on the wet beach on which they disembarked, the +officers ordered the men to build but one fire, and that a large one. +Grouped about this they all stood, ragged, soaked, gaunt, unkempt, yet +the happiest company of adventurers that ever followed a long trail to +its end.</p> + +<p>“Men,” said Meriwether Lewis at length, “we have now arrived at the +end of our journey. In my belief there has never been a party more +loyal to the purpose on which it has been engaged. Without your +strength and courage we could not have reached the sea. It is my wish +to thank you for Mr. Jefferson, the President of the United States, +who sent us here. If at any time one of you has been disposed to +doubt, or to resent conditions which necessarily were imposed, let all +that be forgotten. We have done our work. Here <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span>we must pass the +winter. In the spring we will make quick time homeward.”</p> + +<p>They gave him three cheers, and three for Captain Clark. York gave +expression to his own emotions by walking about the beach on his +hands.</p> + +<p>“And the confounded ships are all gone back to sea!” grumbled Patrick +Gass. “I’ve been achin’ for days to git here, in the hope of foindin’ +some sailor man I’d loike to thrash—and here is no one at all, at +all!”</p> + +<p>“Will,” said Meriwether Lewis after a time, pulling out the inevitable +map, “I wonder where it was that Alexander Mackenzie struck the +Pacific twelve years ago! It must have been far north of here. We have +come around forty-seven degrees of longitude west from Washington, and +something like nine degrees north unite with France or Spain on the +south to known exploration by land. We have driven the wedge home! +Never again can Great Britain on the north unite with France or Spain +on the south to threaten our western frontier. If they dispute the +title we purchased from Napoleon, they can never deny our claim by +right of discovery. This, I say, solidifies our republic! We have done +the work given us to do.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” grinned William Clark, standing on one leg and warming his wet +moccasin sole at the fire; “and I wonder where that other gentleman, +Mr. Simon Fraser, is just now!”</p> + +<p>They could not know that Fraser, the trader who was their rival in the +great race to the Pacific, was at that time snow-bound in the Rockies +more than one thousand miles north of them.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p><p>Three years after the time when this little band of adventurers stood +in the rain at the mouth of the Columbia, Fraser, at the mouth of the +river named after him, heard of white men who had come to the ocean +somewhere far to the south. Word had passed up the coast, among the +native tribes, of men who had white skins, and who had with them a +black man with curly hair.</p> + +<p>“That’s Lewis and Clark!” said Simon Fraser. “They were at the Mandan +villages. We are beaten!”</p> + +<p>So now the largest flag left to Lewis and Clark floated by the side of +a single fire on the wet beach on the north shore of the Columbia. +Here a rude bivouac was pitched, while the leaders finished their +first hasty investigation along the beach.</p> + +<p>“There is little to attract us here,” said William Clark. “On the +south shore there is better shelter for our winter camp.” So they +headed their little boats across the wide flood of the Columbia.</p> + +<p>It was now December of the year 1805. Fort Clatsop, as they called +their new stockade, was soon in process of erection—seven splendid +cabins, built of the best-working wood these men ever had seen; a tall +stockade with a gate, such as their forefathers had always built in +any hostile country.</p> + +<p>While some worked, others hunted, finding the elk abundant. More than +one hundred elk and many deer were killed. And having nothing better, +they now set to work to tan the hides of elk and deer, and to make new +clothing. As to civilized equipment they had little left. About four +hundred pairs of moccasins <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span>they made that winter, Sacajawea presiding +over the moccasin-boards, and teaching the men to sew.</p> + +<p>Clark, the indefatigable, a natural geographer, completed the +remarkable series of maps which so fully established the accuracy of +their observations and the usefulness of the voyage across the +continent. Lewis kept up his records and extended his journals. All +were busy, all happier than they had been since their departure from +the East.</p> + +<p>Christmas was once more celebrated to the tune of the Frenchman’s +fiddle. Came New Year’s Day also; and by that time the stockade was +finished, the gate was up, the men were ready for any fortune which +might occur.</p> + +<p>“Pretty soon, by and by,” said the voyageurs, “we will run on the +river for home once more!”</p> + +<p>Even Sacajawea, having fulfilled her great ambition of looking out +over the sea which tasted of salt, said that she, too, would be +content to go back to her people.</p> + +<p>“We must leave a record, Will,” said Lewis one day, looking up from +his papers. “We must take no chances of the results of our exploration +not reaching Washington. Should we be lost among the tribes east of +here, perhaps some ship may take that word to Mr. Jefferson.”</p> + +<p>So now, between them, they formulated that famous announcement to the +world, which, one year after their safe arrival home overland, the +ships brought around by Cape Horn, to advise the world that a +transcontinental path had been blazed:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span></p><div class="blockquot"><p>The object of this list is that through the medium of some +civilized person who may see the same, it may be made known +to the world that the party consisting of the persons whose +names are hereunto annexed, and who were sent out by the +government of the United States to explore the interior of +the continent of North America, did penetrate the same by +the way of the Missouri and Columbia Rivers, to the +discharge of the latter into the Pacific Ocean, where they +arrived on the 14th day of November, 1805, and departed the +23rd day of March, 1806, on their return trip to the United +States by the same route by which they had come out.</p></div> + +<p>This, so soon as they knew their starting date, they signed, each of +them, and copies were made for posting here and there in such places +as naturally would be discovered by any mariners coming in. And today +we—who can glibly list the names of the multimillionaires of +America—cannot tell the names of more than two of those thirty-one +men, each of whom should be an immortal.</p> + +<p>“Boats now, Will!” said Meriwether Lewis. “We must have boats against +our start in the spring. These canoes which brought us down from the +Kooskooskie were well enough in their way, but will not serve for the +upstream journey. Again we must lift up the entire party against the +current of a great river. Get some of the Indians’ seagoing canoes, +Will—their lines are easier than those of our dugouts.”</p> + +<p>Need was for skilful trading now on the part of William Clark, for, +eager as the natives were for the white men’s goods, scant store of +them remained. All the fishhooks were gone, most of the beads, +practically all the hats and coats which once had served so well. When +at length Clark announced that he had secured <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span>a fine Chinook canoe, +there remained for all the return voyage, thousands of miles among the +Indians, only a half-dozen blankets, a few little trinkets, a hat, and +a uniform coat.</p> + +<p>“You could tie up all the rest in a couple of handkerchiefs,” said +William Clark, laughing. “But such as it is, it must last us back to +St. Louis—or at least to our caches on the Missouri.”</p> + +<p>“How is your salt, Will?” asked Lewis. “And your powder?”</p> + +<p>“In fine shape,” was the reply. “We have put the new-made salt in some +of the empty canisters. There is plenty of powder and lead left, and +we can pick up more as we reach our caches going eastward. With what +dried meat we can lay up from the elk here, we ought to make a good +start.”</p> + +<p>Thus they planned, these two extraordinary young men, facing a +transcontinental journey of four thousand miles, with no better +equipment than the rifles which had served them on their way out. As +for their followers, all the discontent and doubt had given way to an +implicit faith. All seemed well fed and content, save one—the man on +whose shoulders had rested the gravest responsibility, the man in +whose soul had been born the vision of this very scene.</p> + +<p>“What is the matter with you, Merne?” grumbled his more buoyant +companion. “Are you still carrying all the weight of the entire +world?”</p> + +<p>Lewis turned upon his friend with the same patient smile. Both were +conscious that between them there was growing a thin, impermeable +veil—something <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span>mysterious, the only barrier which ever had separated +these two loyal souls.</p> + +<p>Sacajawea, the Indian girl, was as keen-eyed as the red-headed chief. +In the new boldness that she had learned in her position as general +pet of the expedition, she would sometimes talk to the chief +reproachfully.</p> + +<p>“Capt’in,” she said one day, “what for you no laff? What for you no +eat? What for you all time think, think, think? See,” she extended a +hand—“I make you some more moccasin. I got picture your foot—these +fit plenty good.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Bird Woman,” said Lewis, rousing himself. “Without you we +would not be here today. What can I give you in return for all +that—in return for these?”</p> + +<p>He took the pair of handsomely stitched moccasins, dangling them by +the strings over one finger; but even as he did so, the old brooding +melancholy fell upon him once more. He sat, forgetful of the girl’s +presence, staring moodily at the fire. Sacajawea, grieving like a +little child, stole silently away.</p> + +<p>Why did Meriwether Lewis never laugh? Why did he always think, think, +think? Why had there grown between him and his friend that thin, +indefinable reserve?</p> + +<p>He was hungry—hungry for another message out of the sky—another gift +of manna in the wilderness. Who had brought those mysterious letters? +Whoever he was, why did he not bring another? Were they all +done—should he never hear from her again?</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="Second_CHAPTER_IX" id="Second_CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>THE SUMMONS</h3> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">T</span>he winter was wearing away. The wild fowl were passing northward, +landward. The game had changed its haunts. March was coming, the month +between the seasons for the tribes, the time of want, the leanest +period of the year.</p> + +<p>Meriwether Lewis, alone one morning in the comfortable cabin which +served as a house for himself and his friend, sat pondering on these +things, as was his wont. His little Indian dog, always his steady +companion, had taken its place on the top of the flatted stump which +served as a desk, near the maps and papers which Lewis had pushed +away. Here the small creature sat, motionless, mute, its eyes fixed +adoringly upon its master.</p> + +<p>The captain did not notice it. He did not at first hear the rap on the +door, nor the footfall of the man who entered inquiringly.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Sergeant Ordway?” said he presently, looking up.</p> + +<p>Ordway saluted.</p> + +<p>“Something for you, sir. It seems to be a letter.”</p> + +<p>“A letter! How could that be?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span></p><p>“That is the puzzle, sir,” said Ordway, extending a folded and sealed +bit of paper. “We do not know how it came. Charbonneau’s wife, the +Indian woman, found it in the baby’s hammock just now. She brought it +to me, and I saw it was addressed to you. It must have been overlooked +by you some time.”</p> + +<p>“Possibly—possibly,” said Lewis. His face was growing pale. “That is +all, I think, Sergeant,” he added.</p> + +<p>Now alone, he turned toward the letter, which lay upon the table. His +face lighted with a wondrous smile, though none might see it save the +little dog which watched his every movement. For Meriwether Lewis had +received once more the thing for which every fiber of his being +clamored!</p> + +<p>He knew, without one look, that the number scratched in the wax of the +seal would be the figure “4.” He opened the letter slowly. There fell +from it a square of stiff, white paper—all white, he thought, until +he turned it over. Then he saw it looking up at him—her face indeed!</p> + +<p>It was a little silhouette in black, done in that day before the +camera, when small portraits were otherwise well-nigh impossible. The +artist, skilled as were many in this curious form of portraiture, had +done his work well. Lewis gazed with a sudden leap of his pulses upon +the features outlined before him—the profile so cleanly cut and +lofty—the hair low over the forehead, the chin round and firm, yet +delicate and womanly withal. Here even the long lashes of her eyes +were visible, just as in life. Yes, it was her face!</p> + +<p><a name="Illo3" id="Illo3"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 314px;"> +<img src="images/i263.jpg" class="ispace" width="314" height="500" alt="“Her face indeed!”" title="" /> +<span class="caption">“Her face indeed!”</span> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></p><p>And now he read the letter, which covered many closely written sheets:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Meriwether Lewis, I said to you that my face should come to +you, wherever you might be. This time it has been long—I +cannot tell how long. That is for my messenger to determine, +not for you or me. But that it has been long I shall know, +else long since there would have been no need of my adding +this letter to the others.</p> + +<p>Not one of them has served to bring you back! Since you now +have this one, let it advise you that she who wrote it is +grieved that you gaze upon this little portrait, and not +upon the face of her whom it represents. ’Tis a monstrous +good likeness, they tell me; but would you not rather it +were myself?</p> + +<p>Where are you? I cannot tell. What adversities have been +yours? I cannot tell that. You cannot know what grief you +have caused by your long absence. You cannot know how many +hearts you have made sad. You cannot know how you have +delayed—destroyed—plans made for you. We are in ignorance, +each of the other, now. I do not know where you are—you do +not know where I may be. A great wall arises between us. A +great gulf is fixed. We cannot touch hands across it.</p> + +<p>As I know, this will not move you; but I cannot restrain +this reproach. I cannot help telling you that you have made +me suffer by your silence, by your absence. Do I make you +suffer by looking at you with reproach in my eyes—as I do +now?</p> + +<p>You have forgotten your childhood friend! I may be dead as +you read—would you care? I have been in need—yet you have +not come to comfort me and to dry my tears.</p> + +<p>Figure to yourself what has happened to all my plans and +dreams for you. Even I cannot tell of that, because, as I +write, it all lies in the future—that future which is the +present for you as you sit reading this. All I know is that +as you read it my appeal has failed.</p> + +<p>I can but guess how or where these presents may find you; +for how shall I know how wise or how faithful my messenger +has been? Are you on the prairie still, Meriwether <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span>Lewis? +Is it winter? Does the snow lie deep? Are the winds keen and +biting? Are you well fed? Are you warm? Have you bodily +comforts? Have you physical well-being?</p> + +<p>How can I answer all these questions? Yet they come to my +mind as I write.</p> + +<p>Are you in the mountains? Were there, after all, those great +Stony Mountains of which men told fables? Have you found the +great unicorn or the mammoth or the mastadon which Mr. +Jefferson said you were likely to meet? Have you found the +dinosaur or the dragon or the great serpents of a foregone +day? Suppose you have. What do they weigh with me—with you? +Are they so much to you as you thought they would be? Is the +taste of all your triumphs so sweet as you have dreamed, +Meriwether Lewis?</p> + +<p>Have you grown savage, my friend—have you come to be just a +man like the others? Tell me—no, I will not ask you! If I +thought you could descend to the lawless standard of the +wilderness—but no, I cannot think of that! In any case, +’tis too late now. You have not come back to me.</p> + +<p>You see, I am writing not so much to implore you to return +as to reproach you for not returning. By the time this +reaches you, it will be too late in our plans. We could not +afford to wait months—three months, four, six—has it been +so long as that since you left us? If so, it is too late +now. If we have failed, why did we fail?</p> + +<p>They told me—my father and his friends—and I told you +plainly, that if your expedition went on, then our plan must +fail. But now I must presume that you have succeeded, or by +this time are beyond the feeling of either success or +failure. If you have failed, it is too late for us to +succeed. If you have succeeded, then certainly we have +failed. As you read this, you may be doing so with hope. I, +who wrote it, will be sitting in despair.</p> + +<p>Meriwether Lewis, come back to me, even so! It will be too +late for you to aid me. You will have ruined all our hopes. +But yours still will be the task—the duty—to look me in +the face and say whether you owe aught to me. Can I forgive +you? Why, yes, I could never do aught else than forgive. No +matter what you did, I fear I should forgive you. Because, +after all, my own wish in all this——</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span>Ah! let me write slowly here, and think very carefully!</p> + +<p>My greatest wish in this, greater than any ambition I had +for myself or my family—<i>has been for you!</i> See, I am +writing those words—would I dare tell them to any other man +in all the world? Nay, surely not. But that I trust you, the +very writing itself is proof. And I write this to you, who +never can be to me what man must be to woman if either is to +be happy—the man to whom I can never be what woman must be +if she is to mean all to any man. Apart forever! We are +estranged by circumstance, sundered by that, if you please, +weak as those words seem. And yet something takes your soul +to mine. Does something take mine to you, across all the +wilderness, across all the miles, across all the long and +bitter months?</p> + +<p>I say to you once more that in all this my demand upon you +has not been for myself, nor wholly for my father. Let me be +careful here.</p> + +<p>This impassable gulf is fixed between us for all our lives. +Neither of us may cross it. But I have been desirous to see +you stand among men, where you belong. Do not ask me why I +wished that—you must never ask me. I am Mrs. Alston, even +as I write.</p> + +<p>And as for you? Are you in rags as you read this? Are you +cold and hungry? Are you alone, aloof, deserted, perhaps +suffering, with none to comfort you? I cannot aid you. Nay, +I shall punish you once more, and say that it was your +desire—that you brought this on yourself—that you would +have it thus, in spite of all my intervention for you.</p> + +<p>Moreover, you shall say to yourself always:</p> + +<p>“She asked and I refused her!”</p> + +<p>Nay, nay! I shall not be so cruel. I shall not say that at +all. Let me mark that out! Because, if I write that, you +will think I wish to hurt you. And, my friend, let me admit +the truth—the truth I ought not to lay upon you as any +secret—<i>I could never wish to hurt you.</i></p> + +<p>They say that men far away in the wilderness sometimes long +for the sight of the face of a woman. See, now you have +that! I look up at you! What is your impulse? I am alone +with you—I am in your hands—treat me, therefore, with +honor, I pray you!</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span></p><p>You must not raise my face to yours, must not bend yours to +mine. See now, measure my trust in you, Meriwether Lewis! +Estimate the great confidence I hold in you as a gentleman +because—do you not see?—a gentleman does not kiss the +woman whom he has at a disadvantage—the woman who can never +be his, who is another’s. Is it not true?</p> + +<p>Happiness is not for us. We are so far apart. I am sad. Good +night, Meriwether Lewis! I, too, have your picture by +me—the one you gave me years ago when I was in Virginia. +And it—good night, Mr. Meriwether Lewis!</p> + +<p>Place me apart—far from you in the room. Let my face not +look at you direct. But in your heart—your hard heart of a +man, intent on dreams, forgetful of all else—please, please +let there linger some small memory of her who dares to write +these lines—and who hopes that you never may see them!</p></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="Second_CHAPTER_X" id="Second_CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>THE ABYSS</h3> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">T</span>he little Indian dog sat on the table, silent, motionless, looking at +its master, whose head was bowed upon his arms. Now and then it had +stooped as if it would have looked in his face, but dared not, if for +very excess of love. It turned an inquiring eye to the door, which, +after a time, opened.</p> + +<p>William Clark, silent, stood once more at the side of his friend. He +looked on the sad and haggard face which was turned toward him, and +fell back. His eye caught sight of the folded paper crushed between +Lewis’s fingers. He asked no questions, but he knew.</p> + +<p>“Enough!” broke out Meriwether Lewis hoarsely. “No more of this—we +must be gone! Are the men ready? Why do we delay? Why are we not away +for the journey home?”</p> + +<p>So impatient, so incoherent, did his speech seem that for a time Clark +almost feared lest his friend’s reason might have been affected. But +he only stood looking at Lewis, ready to be of such aid as might be.</p> + +<p>“In two hours, Merne,” said he, “we will be on our way.”</p> + +<p>It was now near the end of March. They dated and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span>posted up their +bulletins. They had done their task. They had found the great river, +they had found the sea, they had mapped the way across the new +continent. Their glorious work had gloriously been done.</p> + +<p>Such was their joy at starting home again, the boatmen disregarded the +down-coming current of the great waters—they sang at the paddles, +jested. Only their leader was silent and unsmiling, and he drove them +hard. Short commons they knew often enough before they reached the +mouth of the Walla Walla, where they found friendly Indians who gave +them horse meat—which seemed exceedingly good food.</p> + +<p>The Nez Percés, whose country was reached next beyond the Walla +Wallas, offered guides across the Bitter Roots, but now the snow lay +deep, the horses could not travel. For weeks they lay in camp on the +Kooskooskie, eating horse meat as the Indians then were doing, +waiting, fretting.</p> + +<p>It was the middle of June before they made the effort to pass the +Bitter Roots. Sixty horses they had now, with abundance of jerked +horse meat, and a half-dozen Nez Percés guides. By the third of +July—just three years from the date of the Louisiana Purchase as it +was made known at Mr. Jefferson’s simplicity dinner—they were across +the Bitter Roots once more, in the pleasant valleys of the eastern +slope.</p> + +<p>“That way,” said Sacajawea, pointing, “big falls!”</p> + +<p>She meant the short cut across the string of the bow, which would lead +over the Continental Divide direct to the Great Falls of the Missouri. +Both the leaders <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span>had pondered over this short cut, which the Nez +Percés knew well.</p> + +<p>“We must part, Will,” said Meriwether Lewis. “It is our duty to learn +all we can of this wonderful country. I will take the Indian trail +straight across. Do you go on down the way we came. Pick up our caches +above the three forks of the Missouri, and then cross over the +mountains to the Yellowstone. Make boats there, and come on down to +the mouth of that river. You should precede me there, perhaps, by some +days. Wait then until I come.”</p> + +<p>With little more ado these self-reliant men parted in the middle of +the vast mountain wilderness. They planned a later junction of their +two parties at the mouth of a river which then was less known than the +Columbia had been, through a pass which none of them had ever seen.</p> + +<p>Lewis had with him nine men, among them Sergeant Gass, the two Fields +boys, Drouillard and Cruzatte, the voyageurs. Sacajawea, in spite of +her protest, remained with the Clark party, where her wonderful +knowledge of the country again proved invaluable. This band advanced +directly to the southward by easy and pleasant daily stages.</p> + +<p>“That way short path over mountains,” said Sacajawea at length, at one +point of their journey.</p> + +<p>She pointed out the Big Hole Trail and what was later known as Clark’s +Pass over the Continental Divide. They came to a new country, a +beautiful valley where the grass was good; but Sacajawea still pointed +onward.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span></p><p>“That way,” said she, “find boat, find cache!”</p> + +<p>She showed them another gap in the hills, as yet unknown; and so led +them out by a short cut directly to the caches on the Jefferson!</p> + +<p>But they could not tarry long. Boots and saddles again, pole and +paddle also, for now some of the men must take to the boats while +others brought on the horses. At the Three Forks rendezvous they made +yet other changes, for here the boats must be left. Captain Clark must +cross the mountain range to the eastward to find the Yellowstone, of +which the Indian girl had told him. Yonder, she said, not quite a full +day’s march through a notch in the lofty mountains, they would come to +the river, which ran off to the east.</p> + +<p>Not one of them had ever heard of that gap in the hills; there was no +one to guide them through it except the Indian girl, whose memory had +hitherto been so positive and so trustworthy. They trusted her +implicitly.</p> + +<p>“That way!” she said.</p> + +<p>Always she pointed on ahead confidently; and always she was right. She +was laying out the course of a railroad which one day should come up +the Yellowstone and cross here to the Missouri.</p> + +<p>They found it to be no more than eighteen or twenty miles, Sacajawea’s +extraordinary short cut between the Missouri and the Yellowstone. They +struck the latter river below the mouth of its great cañon, found good +timber, and soon were busy felling great cottonwoods to make dugout +canoes. Two of these, some <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span>thirty feet in length, when lashed side by +side, served to carry all their goods and some of their party. The +rest—Pryor, Shannon, Hall and one or two others—were to come on down +with the horses.</p> + +<p>The mounted men did well enough until one night the Crows stole all +their horses, and left them on foot in the middle of the wilderness. +Not daunted, they built themselves boats of bull hide, as they had +seen Indians do, and soon they followed on down the river, they could +not tell how far, to the rear of the main boat party. With the +marvelous good fortune which attended the entire expedition, they had +no accident; and in time they met the other explorers at the mouth of +the Yellowstone, after traveling nine hundred miles on a separate +voyage of original discovery!</p> + +<p>It was on the eighth of August that the last of Clark’s boats arrived +at the Yellowstone rendezvous. His men felt now as if they were almost +at home. The Mandan villages were not far below. As soon as Captain +Lewis should come, they would be on their way, rejoicing. Patient, +hardy, uncomplaining, they did not know that they were heroes.</p> + +<p>What of Lewis, then gone so long? He and his men were engaged in the +yet more dangerous undertaking of exploring the country of the dreaded +Blackfeet, known to bear arms obtained from the northern traders. They +reached the portage of the Great Falls without difficulty, and eagerly +examined the caches which they had left there. Now they were to divide +their party.</p> + +<p>“Sergeant Gass,” said Captain Lewis, “I am going <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span>to leave you here. +You will get the baggage and the boats below the falls, and take +passage on down the river. Six of you can attend to that. I shall take +Drouillard and the Fields boys with me, and strike off toward the +north and east, where I fancy I shall find the upper portion of +Maria’s River. When you come to the mouth of that river—which you +will remember some of you held to be the real Missouri—you will go +into camp and wait for us. You will remain there until the first day +of September. If by that time we have not returned, you will pass on +down the Missouri to Captain Clark’s camp, at the mouth of the +Yellowstone, and go home with him. By that time it will have become +evident that we shall not return. I plan to meet you at the mouth of +Maria’s River somewhere about the beginning of August.”</p> + +<p>They parted, and it was almost by a miracle that they ever met again; +for now the perils of the wilderness asserted themselves even against +the marvelous good fortune which had thus far attended them.</p> + +<p>Hitherto, practically all the tribes met had been friendly, but now +they were in the country of the dreaded Blackfeet, who by instinct and +training were hostile to all whites coming in from the south and east. +A party of these warriors was met on the second day of their +northbound journey from the Missouri River. Lewis gave the Indians +such presents as he could, and, as was his custom, told them of his +purpose in traveling through the country. He showed no fear of them, +although he saw his own men outnumbered ten to one. The two parties, +the little band of white men and the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span>far more numerous band of +Blackfeet, lay down to sleep that night in company.</p> + +<p>But the Blackfeet were unable to resist the temptation to attain +sudden wealth by seizing the horses and guns of these strangers. +Toward dawn Lewis himself, confident in the integrity of his guests, +and dozing for a time, felt the corner of his robe pulled, felt +something spring on his face, heard a noise. His little dog was +barking loudly, excitedly.</p> + +<p>He was more fully awakened by the sound of a shout, and then by a +shot. Springing from his robes, he saw Drouillard and both of the +Fields boys on their feet, struggling with the savages, who were +trying to wrench their rifles from them.</p> + +<p>“Curse you, turn loose of me!” cried Reuben Fields.</p> + +<p>He fought for a time longer with his brawny antagonist, till he saw +others coming. Then his hand went to the long knife at his belt, and +the next instant the Blackfoot lay dead at his feet.</p> + +<p>Drouillard wrenched his rifle free and stood off his man for a moment, +shouting all the time to his leader that the Indians were trying to +get the horses. Lewis saw the thieves tugging at the picket-ropes, and +hastened into the fray, cursing himself for his own credulity. A giant +Blackfoot engaged him, bull-hide shield advanced, battle-ax whirling; +but wresting himself free, Lewis fired point-blank into his body, and +another Indian fell dead.</p> + +<p>The Blackfeet found they had met their match. They dropped the +picket-ropes and ran as fast as they could, jumped into the river, +swam across, and so <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span>escaped, leaving the little party of whites +unhurt, but much disturbed.</p> + +<p>“Mount, men! Hurry!” Lewis ordered.</p> + +<p>As quickly as they could master the frightened horses, his men obeyed. +With all thought of further exploration ended, they set out at top +speed, and rode all that day and night as fast as the horses could +travel. They had made probably one hundred and twenty miles when at +length they came to the mouth of the Maria’s River, escaped from the +most perilous adventure any of them had had.</p> + +<p>Here again, by that strange good fortune which seemed to guide them, +they arrived just in time to see the canoes of Gass and his men coming +down the Missouri. These latter had made the grand portage at the +falls, had taken up all the caches, and had brought the contents with +them. The stars still fought for the Volunteers for the Discovery of +the West.</p> + +<p>There was no time to wait. The Blackfeet would be coming soon. Lewis +abandoned his horses here. The entire party took to the boats, and +hurried down the river as fast as they could, paddling in relays, day +and night. Gaunt, eager, restless, moody, silent, their leader neither +urged his men nor chided them, nor did he refer to the encounter with +the Blackfeet. He did not need to, with Drouillard to describe it to +them all a dozen times.</p> + +<p>At times it was necessary for the boats to stop for meat, usually a +short errand in a country alive with game; and, as was his custom, +Lewis stepped ashore one evening to try for a shot at some near by +game—elk, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span>buffalo, antelope, whatever offered. He had with him +Cruzatte, the one-eyed Frenchman. It was now that fortune frowned +ominously almost for the first time.</p> + +<p>The two had not been gone more than a few minutes when the men +remaining at the boat heard a shot—then a cry, and more shouting. +Cruzatte came running back to them through the bushes, calling out at +the top of his voice:</p> + +<p>“The captain! I’ve keeled him—I’ve keeled the captain—I’ve shot +him!”</p> + +<p>“What is that you’re saying?” demanded Patrick Gass. “If you’ve done +that, you would be better dead yourself!”</p> + +<p>He reached out, caught Cruzatte’s rifle, and flung it away from him.</p> + +<p>“Where is he?” he demanded.</p> + +<p>Cruzatte led the way back.</p> + +<p>“I see something move on the bushes,” said he, “and I shoot. It was +not elk—it was the captain. <i>Mon Dieu</i>, what shall we do?”</p> + +<p>They found Captain Lewis sitting up, propped against a clump of +willows, his legging stripped to the thigh. He was critically +examining the path of the bullet, which had passed through the limb. +At seeing him still alive, his men gave a shout of joy, and Cruzatte +received a parting kick from his sergeant.</p> + +<p>There were actual tears in the eyes of some of the men as they +gathered around their commander—tears which touched Meriwether Lewis +deeply.</p> + +<p>“It is all right, men!” said he. “Do not be alarmed. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span>Do not reprove +the man too much. The sight of a little blood should not trouble you. +We are all soldiers. This is only an accident of the trail, and in a +short time it will be mended. See, the bone is not broken!”</p> + +<p>They aided him back to the boats and made a bed upon which he might +lie, his head propped up so that he could see what lay ahead. Other +men completed the evening hunt, and the boats hurried on down the +river. The next day found them fifty miles below the scene of the +accident.</p> + +<p>“Sergeant,” said Meriwether Lewis, “the natural fever of my wound is +coming on. Give me my little war-sack yonder—I must see if I can find +some medicine.”</p> + +<p>Gass handed him his bag of leather, and Lewis sought in it for a +moment. His hand encountered something that crinkled in the +touch—crinkled familiarly! For one instant he stopped, his lips +compressed as if in bodily pain.</p> + +<p>It was another of the mysterious letters!</p> + +<p>Before he opened it, he looked at it, frowning, wondering. Whence came +these messages, and how, by whose hand? All of them must have been +written before he left St. Louis in May of 1804. Now it was August of +1806. There was no human agency outside his own party that could have +carried them. How had they reached him? What messenger had brought +them? He forgot the fever of his wound in another and greater fever +which arose in his blood.</p> + +<p>He was with his men now, their eyes were on him <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span>all the time. What +should he do—cast this letter from him into the river? If he did so, +he felt that it would follow him mysteriously, pointing to the <i>corpus +delicti</i> of his crime, still insistent on coming to the eye!</p> + +<p>His men, therefore, saw their leader casually open a bit of paper. +They had seen him do such things a thousand times, since journals and +maps were a part of the daily business of so many of them. What he did +attracted no attention.</p> + +<p>Captain Lewis would have felt relieved had it attracted more. Before +he read any of the words that lay before him, in this same delicate +handwriting that he knew so well, he cast a slow and searching gaze +upon the face of every man that was turned toward him. In fact, he +held the letter up to view rather ostentatiously, hoping that it would +evoke some sign; but he saw none.</p> + +<p>He had not been in touch with the main party for more than a month. He +had with him nine men. Which of these had secretly carried the letter? +Was it Gass, Cruzatte, Drouillard, Reuben Fields, or McNeal?</p> + +<p>He studied their faces alternately. Not an eyelash flickered. The men +who looked at him were anxious only for his comfort. There was no +trace of guilty knowledge on any of these honest countenances before +him, and he who sought such admitted his own failure. Meriwether Lewis +lay back on his couch in the boat, as far as ever from his solution of +the mystery.</p> + +<p>After all, mere curiosity as to the nature of that mystery was a small +matter. It seemed of more worth <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span>to feel, as he did, that the woman +who had planned this system of surprises for him was one of no +ordinary mind. And it was no ordinary woman who had written the words +that he now read:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Sir and My Friend:</span></p> + +<p>Almost I am in despair. This is my fifth letter; you receive +it, perhaps, some months after your start. I think you would +have come back before now, if that had been possible. I had +no news of you, and now I dread news. Should you still be +gone a year from the time I write this, then I shall know +that you were dead. Dead? Yes, I have written that word!</p> + +<p>The swift thought comes to me that you will never see this +at all—that it may, it must, arrive too late. Yet I must +send it, even under that chance. I must write it, though it +ruin all my happiness. Shall it come to you too late, others +will take it to my husband. Then this secret—the one secret +of my life—will be known. Ah, I hope this may come to your +eyes, your living eyes; but should it not, <i>none the less I +must write it</i>.</p> + +<p>What matter? If it should be read by any after your death, +that would be too late to make difference with you, or any +difference for me. After that I should not care for +anything—not even that then others would know what I would +none might ever know save you and my Creator, so long as we +both still lived.</p> + +<p>This wilderness which you love, the wilderness to which you +fled for your comfort—what has it done for you? Have you +found that lonely grave which is sometimes the reward of the +adventurer thither? If so, do you sleep well? I shall envy +you, if that is true. I swear I often would let that thought +come to me—of the vast comfort of the plains, of the +mountains—the sweep of the untiring winds, sweet in the +trees and grasses—or the perpetual sound of water passing +by, washing out, to the voice of its unending murmurs, all +memory of our trials, of our sins.</p> + +<p>What need now to ask you to come back? What need to reproach +you any further? How could I—how can I—with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span>this terrible +thought in my soul that I am writing to a man whose eyes +cannot see, whose ears cannot hear?</p> + +<p>Still, what difference, whether or not you be living? Have +not your eyes thus far been blind to me? Have not your ears +been deaf to me, even when I spoke to you direct? It was the +call of your country as against my call. Was ever thinking +woman who could doubt what a strong man would do? I suppose +I ought to have known. But oh, the longing of a woman to +feel that she is something greater in a man’s life even than +his deeds and his ambitions—even than his labors—even than +his patriotism!</p> + +<p>It is hard for us to feel that we are but puppets in the +great game of life, of so small worth to any man. How can we +women read their hearts—what do we know of men? I cannot +say, though I am a married woman. My husband married me. We +had our honeymoon—and he went away about the business of +his plantations. Does every girl dream of a continuous +courtship and find a dull answer in the facts? I do not +know.</p> + +<p>How freely I write to you, seeing that you are blind and +deaf, of that wish of a woman to be the one grand passion of +a strong man’s life—above all—before even his country! +What may once have been my own dream of my capacity to evoke +such emotions in the soul of any man I have flung into the +scrap-heap of my life. The man, the one man—no! What was I +saying, Meriwether Lewis, to you but now, even though you +were blind and deaf? I must not—I <i>must</i> not!</p> + +<p>Nay, let me dream no more! It is too late now. Living or +dead, you are deaf and blind to all that I could ever do for +you. But if you be still living, if this shall meet your +living eyes, however cold and clear they may be, please, +please remember it was not for myself alone that I took on +the large ambitions of which I have spoken to you, the large +risks engaged with them. Nay, do not reproach me; leave me +my woman’s right to make all the reproaches. I only wanted +to do something for you.</p> + +<p>I have not written so freely to any man in all my life. I +could not do so now did I not feel in some strange way that +by this time—perhaps at this very time—you are either dead +or in some extreme of peril. If I <i>knew</i> that you would see +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span>this, I could not write it. As it is, it gives me some +relief—it is my confessional. How often does a woman ever +confess her own, her inner and real heart? Never, I think, +to any man—certainly not to any living, present man.</p> + +<p>I married; yes. It seemed the ordinary and natural thing to +do, a useful, necessary, desirable thing to do. I should not +complain—I did that with my eyes well opened and with full +counsel of my father. My eyes well opened, but my heart well +closed! I took on my duties as one of the species human, my +duties as wife, as head of a household, as lady of a certain +rank. I did all that, for it is what most women would do. It +is the system of society. My husband is content.</p> + +<p>What am I writing now? Arguing, justifying, defending? Ah, +were it possible that you would read this and come back to +me, never, never, though it killed me, would I open my heart +to you! I write only to a dead man, I say—to one who can +never hear. I write once more to a man who set other things +above all that I could have done. Deeds, deeds, what you +call your country—your own impulses—these were the things +you placed above me. You placed above me this adventuring +into the wilderness. Yes, I know what are the real impulses +in your man’s life. I know what you valued above me.</p> + +<p>But you are dead! While you lived, I hoped your conscience +was clean. I hope that never once have you descended to any +conduct not belonging to Meriwether Lewis of Virginia. I +know that no matter what temptation was yours, you would +remember that I was Mrs. Alston—and that you were +Meriwether Lewis of Virginia.</p> + +<p>Nay, I <i>cannot</i> stop! How can you mind my garrulous pen—my +vain pen—my wicked, wicked, wicked, shameful pen—since you +cannot see what it says?</p> + +<p>Ah, I had so hoped once more to see you before it was too +late! Should this not reach you, and should it reach others, +why, let it go to all the world that Theodosia Burr that +was, Mrs. Alston of Carolina that is, once ardently +importuned a man to join her in certain plans for the +betterment of his fortunes as well as her own; and that you +did not care to share in those plans! So I failed. And +further—let <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span>that also go out to the world—I glory in the +truth <i>that I have failed</i>!</p> + +<p>Yes, that at last is the truth at the bottom of my heart! I +have searched it to the bottom, and I have found the truth. +I glory in the truth that you have <i>not</i> come back to me. +There—have I not said all that a woman could say to a man, +living or dead?</p> + +<p>Just as strongly as I have urged you to return, just as +strongly I have hoped that you would not return! In my soul +I wanted to see you go on in your own fashion, following +your own dreams and caring not for mine. That was the +Meriwether Lewis I had pictured to myself. I shall glory in +my own undoing, if it has meant your success.</p> + +<p>Holding to your own ambition, keeping your own loyalty, +holding your own counsel and your own speech to the +end—pushing on through everything to what you have set out +to do—that is the man I could have loved! Deeds, deeds, +high accomplishments—these in truth are the things which +are to prevail. The selfish love of success as success—the +love of ease, of money, of power—these are the things women +covet <i>from</i> a man—yes, but they are not the things a woman +<i>loves in</i> a man. No; it is the stiff-necked man, bound in +his own ambition, whom women love, even as they swear they +do not.</p> + +<p><i>Therefore, do not come back to me</i>, Meriwether Lewis! Do +not come—forget all that I have said to you before—do not +return until you have done your work! Do not come back to me +until you can come content. Do not come to me with your +splendid will broken. Let it triumph even over the will of a +Burr, not used to yielding, not easily giving up anything +desired.</p> + +<p>This is almost the last letter I shall ever write to any man +in all my life. I wonder who will read it—you, or all the +world, perhaps! I wish it might rest with you at the last. +Oh, let this thought lie with you as you sleep—you did not +come back to me, <i>and I rejoiced that you did not</i>!</p> + +<p>Tell me, why is it that I think of you lying where the wind +is sweet in the trees? Why is it that I think of myself, +too, lying at last, with all my doubts composed, all my +restless ambitions ended, all my foolish dreams answered—in +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span>some place where the sound of the unceasing waters shall +wash out from the memory of the world all my secrets and all +my sins? Always I hear myself crying:</p> + +<p>“I hope I shall not be unhappy, for I do not feel that I +have been bad.”</p> + +<p>Adieu, Meriwether Lewis, adieu! I am glad you can never read +this. I am glad that you have not come back. I am glad that +I have failed!</p></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="Second_CHAPTER_XI" id="Second_CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>THE BEE</h3> + +<p style="float: left; font-size: 100%; line-height: 80%; margin-top: 0;">“</p><p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">C</span>aptain, dear,” said honest Patrick Gass, putting an arm under his +wounded commander’s shoulders as he eased his position in the boat, +“ye are not the man ye was when ye hit me that punch back yonder on +the Ohio, three years ago. Since ye’re so weak now, I have a good mind +to return it to ye, with me compliments. ’Tis safer now!”</p> + +<p>Gass chuckled at his own jest as his leader looked up at him.</p> + +<p>The boiling current of the great Missouri, bend after bend, vista +after vista, had carried them down until at length they had reached +the mouth of the Yellowstone, and had seen on ahead the curl of blue +smoke on the beach—the encampment of their companions, who were +waiting for them here. These wonderful young men, these extraordinary +wilderness travelers, had performed one more miracle. Separated by +leagues of wild and unknown land, they met now casually, as though it +were only what should be expected. Their feat would be difficult even +today.</p> + +<p>William Clark, walking up and down along the bank, looking ever +upstream for some sign of his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span>friend, hurried down to meet the boats, +and gazed anxiously at the figure lifted in the arms of the men.</p> + +<p>“What’s wrong, Merne?” he exclaimed. “Tell me!”</p> + +<p>Lewis waved a hand at him in reassurance, and smiled as his friend +bent above him.</p> + +<p>“Nothing at all, Will,” said he. “Nothing at all—I was playing elk, +and Cruzatte thought it very lifelike! It is just a bullet through the +thigh; the bone is safe, and the wound will soon heal. It is lucky +that we are not on horseback now.”</p> + +<p>By marvel, by miracle, the two friends were reunited once more; and +surely around the camp fires there were stories for all to tell.</p> + +<p>Sacajawea, the Indian girl, sat listening but briefly to all these +tales of adventure—tales not new to one of her birth and education. +Silently and without question, she took the place of nurse to the +wounded commander. She had herbs of her own choosing, simple remedies +which her people had found good for the treatment of wounds. As if the +captain were her child—rather than the forsaken infant who lustily +bemoaned his mother’s absence from his tripod in the lodge—she took +charge of the injured man, until at length he made protest that he was +as well as ever, and that they must go on.</p> + +<p>Again the paddles plied, again the bows of the canoes turned +downstream. It seemed but a short distance thence to the Mandan +villages, and once among the Mandans they felt almost as if they were +at home.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span></p><p>The Mandans received them as beings back from the grave. The drums +sounded, the feast-fires were lighted, and for a time the natives and +their guests joined in rejoicing. But still Lewis’s restless soul was +dissatisfied with delay. He would not wait.</p> + +<p>“We must get on!” said he. “We cannot delay.”</p> + +<p>The boats must start down the last stretch of the great river. Would +any of the tribesmen like to go to the far East, to see the Great +Father? Big White, chief of the Mandans, said his savage prayers.</p> + +<p>“I will go,” said he. “I will go and tell him of my people. We are +poor and weak. I will ask him to take pity on us and protect us +against the Sioux.”</p> + +<p>So it was arranged that Big White and his women, with Jussaume, his +wife, and one or two others, should accompany the brigade down the +river. Loud lamentations mingled with the preparations for the +departure.</p> + +<p>Sacajawea, what of her? Her husband lived among the Mandans. This was +the end of the trail for her, and not the rudest man but was sad at +the thought of going on without her. They knew well enough that in all +likelihood, but for her, their expedition could never have attained +success. Beyond that, each man of them held memory of some personal +kindness received at her hands. She had been the life and comfort of +the party, as well as its guide and inspiration.</p> + +<p>“Sacajawea,” said Meriwether Lewis, when the hour for departure came, +“I am now going to finish my trail. Do you want to go part way with +us? I can take you to the village where we started up this <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span>river—St. +Louis. You can stay there for one snow, until Big White comes back +from seeing the Great Father. We can take the baby, too, if you like.”</p> + +<p>Her face lighted up with a strange wistfulness.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Capt’in,” said she, “I go with Big White—and you.”</p> + +<p>He smiled as he shook his head.</p> + +<p>“We go farther than that, many sleeps farther.”</p> + +<p>“Who shall make the fire? Who shall mend your moccasins? See, there is +no other woman in your party. Who shall make tea? Who shall spread +down the robes? Me—Mrs. Charbonneau!”</p> + +<p>She drew herself up proudly with this title; but still Meriwether +Lewis looked at her sadly, as he stood, lean, gaunt, full-bearded, +clad in his leather costume of the plains, supporting himself on his +crutch.</p> + +<p>“Sacajawea,” said he, “I cannot take your husband with me. All my +goods are gone—I cannot pay him; and now we do not need him to teach +us the language of other peoples. From here we can go alone.”</p> + +<p>“Aw right!” said Sacajawea, in paleface idiom. “Him stay—me go!”</p> + +<p>Meriwether Lewis pondered for a time on what fashion of speech he must +employ to make her understand.</p> + +<p>“Bird Woman,” said he at length, “you are a good girl. It would pain +my heart to see you unhappy. But if you came with me to my villages, +women would say, ‘Who is that woman there? She has no lodge; she does +not belong to any man.’ They must not say that of Sacajawea—she is a +good woman. Those are <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span>not the things your ears should hear. Now I +shall tell the Great Father that, but for Sacajawea we should all have +been lost; that we should never have come back again. His heart will +be open to those words. He will send gifts to you. Sometime, I +believe, the Great Father’s sons will build a picture of you in iron, +out yonder at the parting of the rivers. It will show you pointing on +ahead to show the way to the white men. Sacajawea must never die—she +has done too much to be forgotten. Some day the children of the Great +Father will take your baby, if you wish, and bring him up in the way +of the white men. What we can do for you we will do. Are my words good +in your ears?”</p> + +<p>“Your words are good,” said Sacajawea. “But I go, too! No want to stay +here now. No can stay!”</p> + +<p>“But here is your village, Sacajawea—this is your home, where you +must live. You will be happier here. See now, when I sleep safe at +night, I shall say, ‘It was Sacajawea showed me the way. We did not go +astray—we went straight.’ We will not forget who led us.”</p> + +<p>“But,” she still expostulated, looking up at him, “how can you cook? +How can you make the lodge? One woman—she must help all time.”</p> + +<p>A spasm of pain crossed Lewis’s face.</p> + +<p>“Sacajawea,” said he, “I told you that I had made medicine—that I had +promised my dream never to have a lodge of my own. Always I shall live +upon the trail—no lodge fire in any village shall be the place for +me. And I told you I had made a vow to my <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span>dream that no woman should +light the lodge fire for me. You are a princess—the daughter of a +chief, the sister of a chief, a great person; you know about a +warrior’s medicine. Surely, then, you know that no one is allowed to +ask about the vows of a chief!</p> + +<p>“By and by,” he added gently, “a great many white men will come here, +Sacajawea. They will find you here. They will bring you gifts. You +will live here long, and your baby will grow to be a man, and his +children will live here long. But now I must go to my people.”</p> + +<p>The unwonted tears of an Indian woman were in the eyes which looked up +at him.</p> + +<p>“Ah!” said she, in reproach. “I went with you. I cooked in the lodges. +I showed the way. I was as one of your people. Now I say I go to your +people, and you say no. You need me once—you no need me now! You say +to me, your people are not my people—you not need Sacajawea any +more!”</p> + +<p>The Indian has no word for good-by. The faithful—nay, loving—girl +simply turned away and passed from him; nor did he ever see her more.</p> + +<p>Alone, apart from her people, she seated herself on the brink of the +bluff, below which lay the boats, ready to depart. She drew her +blanket over her head. When at length the voyage had begun, she did +not look out once to watch them pass. They saw her motionless figure +high on the bank above them. The Bird Woman was mourning.</p> + +<p>The little Indian dog, Meriwether Lewis’s constant companion, now, +like Sacajawea, mercifully banished, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span>sat at her side, as motionless +as she. Both of them, mute and resigned, accepted their fate.</p> + +<p>But as for those others, those hardy men, now homeward bound, they +were rejoicing. Speed was the cry of all the lusty paddlers, who, hour +after hour, kept the boats hurrying down, aided by the current and +sometimes pushed forward by favorable winds. They were upon the last +stretch of their wonderful journey. Speed, early and late, was all +they asked. They were going home—back over the trail they had blazed +for their fellows!</p> + +<p>“<i>Capitaine, Capitaine</i>, look what I’ll found!”</p> + +<p>They were halting at noonday, far down the Missouri, for the boiling +of the kettles. Lewis lay on his robes, still too lame to walk, +watching his men as they scattered here and there after their fashion. +It was Cruzatte who approached him, looking at something which the +voyager held in his hand.</p> + +<p>“What is it, Cruzatte?” smiled Lewis.</p> + +<p>He was anxious always to be as kindly as possible to this unlucky +follower, whose terrible mistake had well-nigh resulted in the death +of the leader.</p> + +<p>“Ouch, by gar! She’ll bite me with his tail. She’s hot!”</p> + +<p>Cruzatte held out in his fingers a small but fateful object. It was a +bee, an ordinary honey-bee. East of the Mississippi, in Illinois, +Kentucky, the Virginias, it would have meant nothing. Here on the +great plains it meant much.</p> + +<p>Meriwether Lewis held the tiny creature in the palm of his hand.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></p><p>“Why did you kill it, Cruzatte?” he asked. “It was on its errand.”</p> + +<p>He turned to his friend who sat near, at the other side.</p> + +<p>“Will,” he said, “our expedition has succeeded. Here is the proof of +it. The bee is following our path. They are coming!”</p> + +<p>Clark nodded. Woodsmen as they both were, they knew well enough the +Indian tradition that the bee is the harbinger of the coming of the +white man. When he comes, the plow soon follows, and weeds grow where +lately have been the flowers of the forest or the prairie.</p> + +<p>They sat for a time looking at the little insect, which bore so +fateful a message into the West. Reverently Lewis placed it in his +collector’s case—the first bee of the plains.</p> + +<p>“They are coming!” said he again to his friend.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="Second_CHAPTER_XII" id="Second_CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>WHAT VOICE HAD CALLED?</h3> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">T</span>hey lay in camp far down the river whose flood had borne them on so +rapidly. They had passed through the last of the dangerous country of +the Sioux, defying the wild bands whose gantlet they had to run, but +which they had run in safety. Ahead was only what might be called a +pleasure journey, to the end of the river trail.</p> + +<p>The men were happy as they lay about their fires, which glowed dully +in the dusk. Each was telling what he presently was going to do, when +he got his pay at old St. Louis, not far below.</p> + +<p>William Clark, weary with the day’s labor, had excused himself and +gone to his blankets. Lewis, the responsible head of the expedition, +alone, aloof, silent, sat moodily looking into his fire, the victim of +one of his recurring moods of melancholy.</p> + +<p>He stirred at length and raised himself restlessly. It was not unusual +for him to be sleepless, and always, while awake, he had with him the +problems of his many duties; but at this hour something unwontedly +disturbing had come to Meriwether Lewis.</p> + +<p>He turned once more and bent down, as if figuring <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span>out some puzzle of +a baffling trail. Picking up a bit of stick, he traced here and there, +in the ashes at his feet, points and lines, as if it were some problem +in geometry. Uneasy, strange of look, now and again he muttered to +himself.</p> + +<p>“Hoh!” he exclaimed at length, almost like an Indian, as if in some +definite conclusion.</p> + +<p>He had run his trail to the end, had finished the problem in the +ashes.</p> + +<p>“Hoh!” his voice again rumbled in his chest.</p> + +<p>And now he threw his tracing-stick away. He sat, his head on one side, +as if looking at some distant star. It seemed that he heard a voice +calling to him in the night, so faintly that he could not be sure. His +face, thin, gaunt, looked set and hard in the light of his little +fire. Something stern, something wistful, too, showed in his eyes, +frowning under the deep brows. Was Meriwether Lewis indeed gone mad? +Had the hardships of the wilderness at last taken their toll of +him—as had sometimes happened to other men?</p> + +<p>He rose, limping a little, for he still was weak and stiff from his +wound, though disdaining staff or crotched bough to lean upon. He +looked about him cautiously.</p> + +<p>The camp was slumbering. Here and there, stirred by the passing +breeze, the embers of a little fire glowed like an eye in the dark. +The men slept, some under their rude shelters, others in the open +under the stars, each rolled in his robe, his rifle under the flap to +keep it from the dew.</p> + +<p>Meriwether Lewis knew the place of every man in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span>the encampment. +Ordway, Pryor, Gass—each of the three sergeants slept by his own mess +fire, his squad around him. McNeal, Bratton, Shields, Cruzatte, Reuben +Fields, Goodrich, Whitehouse, Coalter, Shannon—the captain knew where +each lay, rolled up like a mummy. He had marked each when he threw +down his bed-roll that night; for Meriwether Lewis was a leader of +men, and no detail escaped him.</p> + +<p>He passed now, stealthy as an Indian, along the rows of sleeping +forms. His moccasined foot made no sound. Save for his uniform coat, +he was clad as a savage himself; and his alert eye, his noiseless +foot, might have marked him one. He sought some one of these—and he +knew where lay the man he wished to find.</p> + +<p>He stood beside him silently at last, looking down at the sleeping +figure. The man lay a little apart from the others, for he was to +stand second watch that night, and the second guard usually slept +where he would not disturb the others when awakened for his turn of +duty.</p> + +<p>This man—he was long and straight in his blankets, and filled them +well—suddenly awoke, and lay staring up. He had not been called, no +hand had touched him, it was not yet time for guard relief; but he had +felt a presence, even as he slept.</p> + +<p>He stared up at a tall and motionless figure looking down. With a +swift movement he reached for his rifle; but the next instant, even as +he lay, his hand went to his forehead in salute. He was looking up +into the face of his commander!</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span></p><p>“Shannon!” He heard a hoarse voice command him. “Get up!”</p> + +<p>George Shannon, the youngest of the party, sprang out of his bed half +clad.</p> + +<p>“Captain!” He saluted again. “What is it, sir?” he half whispered, as +if in apprehension.</p> + +<p>“Put on your jacket, Shannon. Come with me!”</p> + +<p>Shannon obeyed hurriedly. Half stripped, he stood a fine figure of +young manhood himself, lithe, supple, yet developed into rugged +strength by his years of labor on the trail.</p> + +<p>“What is it, Captain?” he inquired once more.</p> + +<p>They were apart from the others now, in the shadows beyond Lewis’s +fire. Shannon had caught sight of his leader’s countenance, noting the +wildness of its look, its drawn and haggard lines.</p> + +<p>His commander’s hand thrust in his face a clutch of papers, +folded—letters, they seemed to be. Shannon could see the trembling of +the hand that held them.</p> + +<p>“You know what I want, Shannon! I want the rest of these—I want the +last one of them! Give it to me now!”</p> + +<p>The youth felt on his shoulder the grip of a hand hard as steel. He +did not make any answer, but stood dumb, wondering what might be the +next act of this man, who seemed half a madman.</p> + +<p>“Five of them!” he heard the same hoarse voice go on. “There must be +another—there must be one more, at least. You have done this—you +brought these letters. Give me the last one of them! Why <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span>don’t you +answer?” With sudden and violent strength Lewis shook the boy as a dog +might a rat. “Answer me!”</p> + +<p>“Captain, I cannot!” broke out Shannon.</p> + +<p>“What? Then there is another?”</p> + +<p>“I’ll not answer! I’ll stand my trial before court martial, if you +please.”</p> + +<p>Again the heavy hand on his shoulder.</p> + +<p>“There will be no trial!” he heard the hoarse voice of his commander +saying. “I cannot sleep. I must have the last one. There is another!”</p> + +<p>Shannon laid a hand on the iron wrist.</p> + +<p>“How do you know?” he faltered. “Why do you think——”</p> + +<p>“Am I not your leader? Is it not my business to know? I am a woodsman. +You thought you had covered your trail, but it was plain. I know you +are the messenger who has been bringing these letters to me from her. +I need not name her, and you shall not! For what reason you did +this—by what plan—I do not know, but I know you did it. You were +absent each time that I found one of these letters. That was too +cunning to be cunning! You are young, Shannon, you have something to +learn. You sing songs—love songs—you write letters—love letters, +perhaps! You are Irish—you have sentiment. There is romance about +you—<i>you</i> are the man she would choose to do what you have done. +Being a woman, she knew, she chose well; but it is my business to read +all these signs.</p> + +<p>“Give me that letter! I am your officer.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span></p><p>“Captain, I will not!”</p> + +<p>“I tell you I cannot sleep! Give it to me, boy, or, by Heaven, you +yourself shall sleep the long sleep here and now! What? You still +refuse?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I’ll not be driven to it. You say I’m Irish. I am—I’ll not give +up a woman’s secret—it’s a question of honor, Captain. There is a +woman concerned, as you know.”</p> + +<p>“Yes!”</p> + +<p>“And I promised her, too. I swear I never planned any wrong to either +of you. I would die at your order now, as you know; but you have no +right to order this, and I’ll not answer!”</p> + +<p>The hand closed at his throat. The boy could not speak, but still +Meriwether Lewis growled on at him.</p> + +<p>“Shannon! Speak! Why have you kept secrets from your commanding +officer? You have begun to tell me—tell me all!”</p> + +<p>The boy’s hand clutched at his leader’s wrists. At length Lewis loosed +him.</p> + +<p>“Captain,” began the victim, “what do you mean? What can I do?”</p> + +<p>“I will tell you what I mean, Shannon. I promised to care for you and +bring you back safe to your parents. You’ll never see your parents +again, save on one condition. I trusted you, thought you had special +loyalty for me. Was I wrong?”</p> + +<p>“On my honor, Captain,” the boy broke out, “I’d have died for you any +time, and I’d do it now! I’ve worked my very best. You’re my officer, +my chief!”</p> + +<p>With one movement, Meriwether Lewis flung off <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span>the uniform coat that +he wore. They stood now, man to man, stripped, and neither gave back +from the other.</p> + +<p>“Shannon,” said Lewis, “I’m not your officer now. I’m going to choke +the truth out of you. Will you fight me, or are you afraid?”</p> + +<p>The last cruelty was too much. The boy began to gulp.</p> + +<p>“I’m not afraid to fight, sir. I’d fight any man, but you—no, I’ll +not do it! Even stripped, you’re my commander still.”</p> + +<p>“Is that the reason?”</p> + +<p>“Not all of it. You’re weak, Captain, your wound has you in a fever. +’Twould not be fair—I could do as I liked with you now. I’ll not +fight you. I couldn’t!”</p> + +<p>“What? You will not obey me as your officer, and will not fight me as +a man? Do you want to be whipped? Do you want to be shot? Do you want +to be drummed out of camp tomorrow morning? By Heaven, Private +Shannon, one of these choices will be yours!”</p> + +<p>But something of the icy silence of the youth who heard these terrible +words gave pause even to the madman that was Meriwether Lewis now. He +halted, his hooked hands extended for the spring upon his opponent.</p> + +<p>“What is it, boy?” he whispered at last. “What have I done? What did I +say?”</p> + +<p>Shannon was sobbing now.</p> + +<p>“Captain,” he said, and thrust a hand into the bosom <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span>of his +tunic—“Captain, for Heaven’s sake, don’t do that! Don’t apologize to +me. I understand. Leave me alone. Here’s the letter. There were +six—this is the last.”</p> + +<p>Lewis’s strained muscles relaxed, his blazing eyes softened.</p> + +<p>“Shannon!” he whispered once more. “What have I done?”</p> + +<p>He took the letter in his hand, but did not look at it, although his +fingers could feel the seal unbroken.</p> + +<p>“Why do you give it to me now, boy?” he asked at length. “What changed +you?”</p> + +<p>“Because it’s orders, sir. She ordered me—that is, she asked me—to +give you these letters at times when you seemed to need them +most—when you were sick or in trouble, when anything had gone wrong. +We couldn’t figure so far on ahead when I ought to give you each one. +I had to do my best. I didn’t know at first, but now I see that you’re +sick. You’re not yourself—you’re in trouble. She told me not to let +you know who carried them,” he added rather inconsequently. “She said +that that might end it all. She thought that you might come back.”</p> + +<p>“Come back—when?”</p> + +<p>“She didn’t know—we couldn’t any of us tell—it was all a guess. All +this about the letters was left to me, to do my best. I couldn’t ask +you, Captain, or any one. I don’t know what was in the letters, sir, +and I don’t ask you, for that’s not my business; but I promised her.”</p> + +<p>“What did she promise you?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span></p><p>“Nothing. She didn’t promise me pay, because she knew I wouldn’t have +done it for pay. She only looked at me, and she seemed sad, I don’t +know why. I couldn’t help but promise her. I gave her my word of +honor, because she said her letters might be of use to you, but that +no one else must know that she had written them.”</p> + +<p>“When was all this?”</p> + +<p>“At St. Louis, just before we started. I reckon she picked me out +because she thought I was especially close to you. You know I have +been so.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I know, Shannon.”</p> + +<p>“I thought I was doing something for you. You see, she told me that +her name must not be mentioned, that no one must know about this, +because it would hurt a woman’s reputation. She thought the men might +talk, and that would be bad for you. I could not refuse her. Do you +blame me now?”</p> + +<p>“No, Shannon. No! In all this there is but one to blame, and that is +your officer, myself!”</p> + +<p>“I did not think there was any harm in my getting the letters to you, +Captain. I knew that lady was your friend. I know who she is. She was +more beautiful than any woman in St. Louis when we were there—more a +lady, somehow. Of course, I’m not an officer or a gentleman—I’m only +a boy from the backwoods, and only a private soldier. I couldn’t break +my promise to her, and I couldn’t very well obey your orders unless I +did. If I’ve broken any of the regulations you can punish me. You see, +I held back this letter—I gave it to you now because I had the +feeling that I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span>ought to—that she would want me to. It is the fever, +sir!”</p> + +<p>“Aye, the fever!”</p> + +<p>Silence fell as they stood there in the night. The boy went on, half +tremblingly:</p> + +<p>“Please, please, Captain Lewis, don’t call me a coward! I don’t +believe I am. I was trying to do something for you—for both of you. +It was always on my mind about these letters. I did my best and +now——”</p> + +<p>And now it was the eye of Meriwether Lewis that suddenly was wet; it +was his voice that trembled.</p> + +<p>“Boy,” said he, “I am your officer. Your officer asks your pardon. I +have tried myself. I was guilty. Will you forget this?”</p> + +<p>“Not a word to a soul in the world, Captain!” broke out Shannon. +“About a woman, you see, we do not talk.”</p> + +<p>“No, Mr. Shannon, about a woman we gentlemen do not talk. But now tell +me, boy, what can I do for you—what can I ever do for you?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing in the world, Captain—but just one thing.”</p> + +<p>“What is it?”</p> + +<p>“Please, sir, tell me that you don’t think me a coward!”</p> + +<p>“A coward? No, Shannon, you are the bravest fellow I ever met!”</p> + +<p>The hand on the boy’s shoulder was kindly now. The right hand of +Captain Meriwether Lewis sought that of Private George Shannon. The +madness of the trail, of the wilderness—the madness of absence <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span>and +of remorse—had swept by, so that Lewis once more was officer, +gentleman, just and generous man.</p> + +<p>Shannon stooped and picked up the coat that his captain had cast from +him. He held it up, and aided his commander again to don it. Then, +saluting, he marched off to his bivouac bed.</p> + +<p>From that day to the end of his life, no one ever heard George Shannon +mention a word of this episode. Beyond the two leaders of the party, +none of the expedition ever knew who had played the part of the +mysterious messenger. Nor did any one know, later, whence came the +funds which eventually carried George Shannon through his schooling in +the East, through his studies for the bar, and into the successful +practise which he later built up in Kentucky’s largest city.</p> + +<p>Meriwether Lewis, limp and lax now, shivering in the chill under the +reaction from his excitement, turned away, stepped back to his own +lodge, and contrived a little light, after the frontier fashion—a rag +wick in a shallow vessel of grease. With this uncertain aid he bent +down closer to read the finely written lines, which ran:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">My Friend:</span></p> + +<p>This is my last letter to you. This is the one I have marked +Number Six—the last one for my messenger.</p> + +<p>Yes, since you have not returned, now I know you never can. +Rest well, then, sir, and let me be strong to bear the news +when at length it comes, if it ever shall come. Let the +winds and the waters sound your requiem in that wilderness +which you loved more than me—which you loved more than fame +or fortune, honor or glory for yourself. The wilderness! It +holds you. And for me—when at last I come <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span>to lay me down, +I hope, too, some wilderness of wood or waters will be +around me with its vast silences.</p> + +<p>After all, what is life? Such a brief thing! Little in it +but duty done well and faithfully. I know you did yours +while you lived. I have tried to do mine. It has been hard +for me to see what was duty. If I knew as absolute truth +that conviction now in my heart—that you never can come +back—how then could I go on?</p> + +<p>Meriwether—Merne—Merne—I have been calling to you! Have +you not heard me? Can you not hear me now, calling to you +across all the distances to come back to me? I cannot give +you up to the world, because I have loved you so much for +myself. It was a cruel fate that parted us—more and more I +know that, even as more and more I resolve to do what is my +duty. But, oh, I miss you! Come back to me—to one who never +was and never can be, but <i>is</i>——</p> + +<p class="left1">Yours,</p> + +<p class="left3"><span class="smcap">Theodosia.</span></p></div> + +<p>It took him long to read this letter. At last his trembling hand +dropped the creased and broken sheets. The guttering light went out. +The men were silent, sleeping near their fires. The peace of the great +plains lay all about.</p> + +<p>She had said it—had said that last fated word. Now indeed he knew +what voice had called to him across the deeps!</p> + +<p>He reflected now that all these messages had been written to him +before he left her; and that when he saw her last she was standing, +tears in her eyes, outraged by the act of the man whom she had +trusted—nay, whom she had loved!</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="Second_CHAPTER_XIII" id="Second_CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3>THE NEWS</h3> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">A</span> horseman rode furiously over the new road from Fort Bellefontaine to +St. Louis village. He carried news. The expedition of Lewis and Clark +had returned!</p> + +<p>Yes, these men so long thought lost, dead, were coming even now with +their own story, with their proofs. The boats had passed Charette, had +passed Bellefontaine, and presently would be pulling up the river to +the water front of St. Louis itself.</p> + +<p>“Run, boys!” cried Pierre Chouteau to his servants. “Call out the +people! Tell them to ring the bells—tell them to fire the guns at the +fort yonder. Captains Lewis and Clark have come back again—those who +were dead!”</p> + +<p>The little settlement was afire upon the instant. Laughing, talking, +ejaculating, weeping in their joy, the people of St. Louis hurried out +to meet the men whose voyage meant so much.</p> + +<p>At last they saw them coming, the paddles flashing in unison in the +horny hands which tirelessly drove the boats along the river. They +could see them—men with long beards, clad in leggings of elk hide, +moccasins <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span>of buffalo and deer; their head-dresses those of the +Indians, their long hair braided. And see, in the prow of the foremost +craft sat two men, side by side—Lewis and Clark, the two friends who +had arisen as if from the grave!</p> + +<p>“Present arms!” rang out a sharp command, as the boats lined up along +the wharf.</p> + +<p>The brown and scarred rifles came to place.</p> + +<p>“Aim! Fire!”</p> + +<p>The volley of salutation blazed out even with the chorus of the +voyageurs’ cheers. And cheers repeated and unceasing greeted them as +they stepped from their boats to the wharf. In an instant they were +half overpowered.</p> + +<p>“Come with me!”</p> + +<p>“No, with me!”</p> + +<p>“With me!”</p> + +<p>A score of eager voices of the first men of St. Louis claimed the +privilege of hospitality for them. It was almost by force that Pierre +Chouteau bore them away to his castle on the hill. And always +questions, questions, came upon them—ejaculations, exclamations.</p> + +<p>“<i>Ma foi!</i>” exclaimed more than one pretty French maiden. “Such +men—such splendid men—savages, yet white! See! See!”</p> + +<p>They had gone away as youths, these two captains; they had come back +men. Four thousand miles out and back they had gone, over a country +unmapped, unknown; and they brought back news—news of great, new +lands. Was it any wonder that they stood now, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span>grave and dignified, +feeling almost for the first time the weight of what they had done?</p> + +<p>They passed over the boat-landing and across the wharf, approaching +the foot of the rocky bluff above which lay the long street of St. +Louis. Silent, as was his wont, Meriwether Lewis had replied to most +of the greetings only with the smile which so lighted up his face. But +now, suddenly, he ceased even to smile. His eye rested not upon the +faces of those acclaiming friends, but upon something else beyond +them.</p> + +<p>Yes, there it was—the old fur-shed, the storage-house of the traders +here on the wharf, just as he had left it two years before! The door +was closed. What lay beyond it?</p> + +<p>Lewis shuddered, as if caught with chill, as he looked at yonder door. +Just there she had stood, more than two years ago, when he started out +on this long journey. There he had kissed that face which he had left +in tears—he saw it now! All the glory of his safe return, all the +wonderful results which it must mean, he would have given now, could +he have had back that picture for a different making.</p> + +<p>“My matches—my thermometers—my instruments—how did they perform?”</p> + +<p>The speaker was Dr. Saugrain, eager to meet again his friends.</p> + +<p>“Perfect, doctor, perfect! We have some of the matches yet. As to the +thermometers, we broke the last one before we reached the sea.”</p> + +<p>“You found the sea? <i>Mon Dieu!</i>”</p> + +<p>“We found the Pacific. We found the Columbia, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span>the Yellowstone—many +new rivers. We have found a new continent—made a new geography. We +passed the head of the Missouri. We found three great mountain +ranges.”</p> + +<p>“The beaver—did you find the beaver yonder?” demanded the voice of a +swarthy man who had attended them.</p> + +<p>It was Manuel Liza, fur-trader, his eyes glowing in his interest in +that reply.</p> + +<p>“Beaver?” William Clark waved a hand. “How many I could not tell you! +Thousands and millions—more beaver than ever were known in the world +before. Millions of buffalo—elk in droves—bears such as you never +saw—antelope, great horned sheep, otters, muskrat, mink—the greatest +fur country in all the world. We could not tell you half!”</p> + +<p>“Your men, will they be free to make return up the river with trading +parties?”</p> + +<p>William Clark smiled at the keenness of the old French trader.</p> + +<p>“You could not possibly have better men,” said he.</p> + +<p>The men themselves shook their heads in despair. Yes, they said, they +had found a thousand miles of country ready to be plowed. They had +found any quantity of hardwood forests and pine groves. They had seen +rivers packed with fish until they were half solid—more fish than +ever were in all the world before. They had found great rivers which +led far back to the heart of the continent. They had seen trees larger +than any man ever had seen—so large that they hardly could be felled +by an ax.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span></p><p>They had found a country where in the winter men perished, and another +where the winters were not cold, and where the bushes grew high as +trees. They had found all manner of new animals never known before—in +short, a new world. How could they tell of it?</p> + +<p>“Captain,” inquired Chouteau at length, “your luggage, your +boxes—where are they?”</p> + +<p>Meriwether Lewis pointed to a skin parfleche and a knotted bandanna +handkerchief which George Shannon carried for him.</p> + +<p>“That is all I have left,” said he. “But the mail for the East—the +mail, M. Chouteau—we must get word to the President!”</p> + +<p>“The President has long ago been advised of your death,” said +Chouteau, laughing. “All the world has said good-by to you. No doubt +you can read your own obituaries.”</p> + +<p>“We bring them better news than that. What news for us?” asked the two +captains of their host.</p> + +<p>“News!” The voluble Frenchman threw up his hands. “Nothing but news! +The entire world is changed since you left. I could not tell you in a +month. The Burr duel——”</p> + +<p>“Yes, we did not know of it for two years,” said William Clark. “We +have just heard about it, up river.”</p> + +<p>“The killing of Mr. Hamilton ended the career of Colonel Burr,” said +Chouteau. “But for that we might have different times here in +Mississippi. He had many friends. But you have heard the last news +regarding him?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span></p><p>It was the dark eye of Meriwether Lewis which now compelled his +attention.</p> + +<p>“No? Well, he came out here through this country once more. He was +arrested last summer, on the Natchez Trace, and carried off to +Washington. The charge is treason against his government. The country +is full of it—his trial is to be at Richmond. Even now it may be +going on.”</p> + +<p>He did not notice the sudden change in Meriwether Lewis’s face.</p> + +<p>“And all the world is swimming in blood across the sea,” went on their +garrulous informant. “Napoleon and Great Britain are at war again. +Were it not so, one or the other of them would be at the gates of New +Orleans, that is sure. This country is still discontented. There was +much in the plan of Colonel Burr to separate this valley into a +country of its own, independent—to force a secession from the +republic, even though by war on the flag. Indeed, he was prepared for +that; but now his conspiracy is done. Perhaps, however, you do not +hold with the theory of Colonel Burr?”</p> + +<p>“Hold with the theory of Colonel Burr, sir?” exclaimed the deep voice +of Meriwether Lewis. “Hold with it? This is the first time I have +known what it was. It was treason! If he had any join him, that was in +treason! He sought to disrupt this country? Agree with him? What is +this you tell me? I had never dreamed such a thing as possible of +him!”</p> + +<p>“He had many friends,” went on Chouteau; “very many friends. They are +scattered even now all up <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span>and down this country—men who will not +give up their cause. All those men needed was a leader.”</p> + +<p>“But, M. Chouteau,” rejoined Lewis, “I do not understand—I cannot! +What Colonel Burr attempted was an actual treason to this republic. I +find it difficult to believe that!”</p> + +<p>Chouteau shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>“There may be two names for it,” he said.</p> + +<p>“And every one asked to join the cause was asked to join in treason to +his country. Is it not so?” Lewis went on.</p> + +<p>“There may be two names for it,” smiled the other, still shrugging.</p> + +<p>“He was my friend,” said Meriwether Lewis. “I trusted him!”</p> + +<p>“Always, I repeat, there are two names for treason. But what puzzles +me is this,” Chouteau continued. “What halted the cause of Colonel +Burr here in the West? He seemed to be upon the point of success. His +organization was complete—his men were in New Orleans—he had great +lands purchased as a rendezvous below. He had understandings with +foreign powers, that is sure. Well, then, here is Colonel Burr at St. +Louis, all his plans arranged. He is ready to march, to commence his +campaign, to form this valley into a great kingdom, with Mexico as +part of it. He was a man able to make plans, believe me. But of all +this there comes—nothing! Why? At the last point something failed—no +one knew what. He waited for something—no one knew what. Something +lacked—no one can tell what. And all the time—this is most curious +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span>to me—I learned it through others—Colonel Burr was eager to hear +something of the expedition of Lewis and Clark into the West. Why? No +one knows! <i>Does</i> no one know?”</p> + +<p>The captain did not speak, and Chouteau presently went on.</p> + +<p>“Why did Colonel Burr hesitate, why did he give up his plans +here—why, indeed, did he fail? You ask me why these things were? I +say, it was because of you—<i>messieurs</i>, you two young men, with your +Lewis and Clark Expedition! It was <i>you</i> who broke the Burr +Conspiracy—for so they call it in these days. <i>Messieurs</i>, that is +your news!”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="Second_CHAPTER_XIV" id="Second_CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h3>THE GUESTS OF A NATION</h3> + +<p style="float: left; font-size: 100%; line-height: 80%; margin-top: 0;">“</p><p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">A</span>ttention, men!”</p> + +<p>The company of Volunteers for the Discovery of the West fell into line +in front of the stone fortress of old St. Louis. A motley crew they +looked in their half-savage garb. They were veterans, fit for any +difficult undertaking in the wilderness. Shoulder to shoulder they had +labored in the great enterprise. Now they were to disband.</p> + +<p>Their leaders had laid aside the costume of the frontier and assumed +the uniforms of officers in the army of the United States. Fresh from +his barber and his tailor, Captain Lewis stood, tall, clean-limbed, +immaculate, facing his men. His beard was gone, his face showed paler +where it had been reaped. His hair, grown quite long, and done now in +formal cue, hung low upon his shoulders. In every line a gentleman, an +officer, and a thoroughbred, he no longer bore any trace of the +wilderness. Love, confidence, admiration—these things showed in the +faces of his men as their eyes turned to him.</p> + +<p>“Men,” said he, “you are to be mustered out today. There will be given +to each of you a certificate of service <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span>in this expedition. It will +entitle you to three hundred and twenty acres of land, to be selected +where you like west of the Mississippi River. You will have double pay +in gold as well; but it is not only in this way that we seek to show +appreciation of your services.</p> + +<p>“We have concluded a journey of considerable length and importance. +Between you and your officers there have been such relations as only +could have made successful a service so extraordinary as ours has +been. In our reports to our own superior officers we shall have no +words save those of praise for any of you. Our expedition has +succeeded. To that success you have all contributed. Your officers +thank you.</p> + +<p>“Captain Clark will give you your last command, men. As I say farewell +to you, I trust I may not be taken to mean that I separate myself from +you in my thoughts or memories. If I can ever be of service to any of +you, you will call upon me freely.”</p> + +<p>He turned and stepped aside. His place was taken by his associate, +William Clark, likewise a soldier, an officer, properly attired, and +all the figure of a proper man. Clark’s voice rang sharp and clear.</p> + +<p>“Attention! Aim—fire! Break ranks—march!”</p> + +<p>The last volley of the gallant little company was fired. The last +order had been given and received. With a sweep of his drawn sword, +Captain Clark dismissed them. The expedition was done.</p> + +<p>So now they went their way, most of them into oblivion, great though +their services had been. For their officers much more remained to do.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span></p><p>The progress to Washington was a triumph. Everywhere their admiring +countrymen were excited over their marvelous journey. They were fêted +and honored at every turn. The country was ringing with their praises +from the Mississippi to the Atlantic as the news spread eastward just +ahead of them.</p> + +<p>When at last they finished their adieux to the kindly folk of St. +Louis, who scarce would let them go, they took boat across the river +to the old Kaskaskia trail, and crossed the Illinois country by horse +to the Falls of the Ohio, where the family of William Clark awaited +him. Here was much holiday, be sure; but not even here did they pause +long, for they must be on their way to meet their chief at Washington.</p> + +<p>Their little cavalcade, growing larger now, passed on across Kentucky, +over the gap in the Cumberlands, down into the country of the Virginia +gentry. Here again they were fêted and dined and wined so long as they +would tarry. It was specially difficult for them to leave Colonel +Hancock, at Fincastle. Here they must pause and tell how they had +named certain rivers in the West—the one for Maria Woods; another for +Judith Hancock—the Maria’s and Judith Rivers of our maps today.</p> + +<p>Here William Clark delayed yet a time. He found in the charms of the +fair Judith herself somewhat to give him pause. Soon he was to take +her as his bride down the Ohio to yonder town of St. Louis, for whose +fame he had done so much, and was to do so much more.</p> + +<p>Toward none of the fair maids who now flocked <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span>about them could +Meriwether Lewis be more than smiling gallant, though rumors ran that +either he or William Clark might well-nigh take his pick. He was alike +to all of them in his courtesy.</p> + +<p>One thought of eager and unalloyed joy rested with him. He was soon to +see his mother. In time he rode down from the hilltops of old +Albemarle to the point beyond the Ivy Depot where rose the gentle +eminence of Locust Hill, the plantation of the Lewis family.</p> + +<p>Always in the afternoon, in all weathers, his mother sat looking down +the long lane to the gate, as if she expected that one day a certain +figure would appear. Sometimes, old as she was, she dozed and +dreamed—just now she had done so. She awoke, and saw standing before +her, as if pictured in her dream, the form of her son, in bodily +presence, although at first she did not accept him as such.</p> + +<p>“My son!” said she at length, half as much in terror as in joy. +“Merne!”</p> + +<p>He stooped down and took her grayed head in his hands as she looked up +at him. She recalled other times when he had come from the forest, +from the wilderness, bearing trophies in his hands. He bore now +trophies greater, perhaps, than any man of his age ever had brought +home with him. What Washington had defended was not so great as that +which Lewis won. It required them both to make an America for us +haggling and unworthy followers.</p> + +<p>“My son!” was all she could say. “They told me that you never would +come back, that you were dead. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span>I thought the wilderness had claimed +you at last, Merne!”</p> + +<p>“I told you I should come back to you safe, mother. There was no +danger at any time. From St. Louis I have come as fast as any +messenger could have come. Next I must go to see Mr. Jefferson at +Washington—then, back home again to talk with you, for long, long +hours.”</p> + +<p>“And what have you found?”</p> + +<p>“More than I can tell you in a year! We found the mysterious river, +the Columbia—found where it runs into the ocean, where it starts in +the mountains. We found the head of the Missouri—the Ohio is but a +creek beside it. We crossed plains and mountains more wonderful than +any we have ever dreamed of. We saw the most wonderful land in all the +world, mother—and we made it ours!”</p> + +<p>“And you did that? Merne, was <i>that</i> why the wilderness called to you? +My boy has done all that? Your country will reward you. I should not +complain of all these years of absence. You are happy now, are you +not?”</p> + +<p>“I should be the happiest of men. I can take to Mr. Jefferson, our +best friend, the proof that he was right in his plans. His great dream +has come true, and I in some part helped to make it true. Should I not +now be happy?”</p> + +<p>“You should be, Merne, but are you?”</p> + +<p>“I am well, and I find you still well and strong. My friend, Will +Clark, has come back with me hearty as a boy. Everything has been +fortunate with us. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span>Look at me,” he demanded, turning and stretching +out his mighty arms. “I am strong. My men all came through without +loss or injury—the splendid fellows! It is wonderful that in risks +such as ours we met with no ill fortune.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, but are you happy? Turn your face to me.”</p> + +<p>But he did not turn his face.</p> + +<p>“I told my friend, William Clark,” he said lightly, as he rose, “to +join me here after an hour or so. I think I see his party coming now. +York rides ahead, do you see? He is a free negro now—he will have +stories enough to set all our blacks idle for a month. I must go down +to meet Will and our other guests.”</p> + +<p>William Clark, bubbling over with his own joy of life, set all the +household in a whirl. There was nothing but cooking, festivity, +dancing, hilarity, so long as he remained at Locust Hill.</p> + +<p>But the mother of Meriwether Lewis looked with jealous eye on William +Clark. Success, glory, honor, fame, reward—these now belonged to +Meriwether Lewis, to them both, his mother knew. But why did not his +laugh sound high like that of his friend? Her eyes followed her son +daily, hourly, until at last she surrendered him to his duty when he +declared he could no longer delay his journey to Washington.</p> + +<p>Spick and span, cap-a-pie, pictures of splendid young manhood, the two +captains rode one afternoon up to the great gate before the mansion +house of the nation. Lewis looked about him at scenes once familiar; +but in the three years and a half since he had seen it last the raw +town had changed rapidly.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span></p><p>Workmen had done somewhat upon the Capitol building yonder, certain +improvements had been made about the Executive Mansion itself; but the +old negro men at the gate and at the door of the house were just as he +had left them. And when, running on ahead of his companion, he knocked +at Mr. Jefferson’s office door—flinging it open, as he did so, with +the freedom of his old habit—he looked in upon a familiar sight.</p> + +<p>Thomas Jefferson was sitting bent over his desk, as usual littered +with a thousand papers. The long frame of his multigraph +copying-machine was at one side. Folded documents lay before him, +unfinished briefs upon the other side; a rack of goose quills and an +open inkpot stood beyond. And on the top of the desk, spread out long +and over all, lay a great map, whose identity these two young men +easily could tell—the Lewis and Clark map sent back from the Mandan +country! Thomas Jefferson had kept it at his desk every day since it +had come to him, more than two years before.</p> + +<p>He turned now toward the door, casually, for he was used to the +interruptions of his servants. What he saw brought him to his feet. He +spread out his arms impulsively—he shook the hand of each in turn, +drew them to him before he motioned them to seats. Never had +Meriwether Lewis seen such emotion displayed by his chief.</p> + +<p>“I could hardly wait for you!” said Mr. Jefferson. He began to pace up +and down. “I knew it, I knew it!” he exclaimed. “Now they will call us +constitutional, perhaps, since we have added a new world to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span>our +country! My son, that was our vision. You have proved it. You have +been both dreamer and doer!”</p> + +<p>He came up and placed a half playful hand on Meriwether Lewis’s +shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Did I know men, then?” he demanded.</p> + +<p>“And did I, Mr. Jefferson? Captain Clark——”</p> + +<p>“You do not say the title correctly! It is not Captain Clark, it is +not Captain Lewis, that stand before me now. You are to have sixteen +hundred acres of land, each of you. You, my son, will be Governor +Lewis of the new Territory of Louisiana; and your friend is not +Captain Clark but General Clark, agent of all the Indian tribes of the +West!”</p> + +<p>In silence the hand of each of the young men went out to the +President. Then their own eyes met, and their hands. They were not to +be separated after all—they were to work together yonder in St. +Louis!</p> + +<p>“Governor—General—I welcome you back! You will come back to your old +rooms here in my family, Merne, and we will find a place for your +friend. What we have here is at the service of both of you. You are +the guests of the nation!”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="Second_CHAPTER_XV" id="Second_CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<h3>MR. JEFFERSON’S ADVICE</h3> + +<p style="float: left; font-size: 100%; line-height: 80%; margin-top: 0;">“</p><p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">M</span>erne, my boy,” said Thomas Jefferson, when at length they two were +alone once more in the little office, “I cannot say what your return +means to me. You come as one from the grave—you resurrect another +from the grave.”</p> + +<p>“Meaning, Mr. Jefferson?——”</p> + +<p>“You surely have heard that my administration is in sad disrepute? +There is no man in the country hated so bitterly as myself. We are +struggling on the very verge of war.”</p> + +<p>“I heard some talk in the West, Mr. Jefferson,” hesitated Meriwether +Lewis.</p> + +<p>“Yes, they called this Louisiana Purchase, on which I had set my +heart, nothing but extravagance. The machinations of Colonel Burr have +added nothing to its reputation. General Jackson is with Burr, and +many other strong friends. And meantime you know where Burr himself +is—in the Richmond jail. I understand that his friend, Mr. Merry, has +gone yonder to visit him. Our country is degenerated to be no more +than a scheming-ground, a plotting-place, for other powers. You come +back just in the nick of time. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span>You have saved this administration! +You bring back success with you. If the issue of your expedition were +anything else, I scarce know what would be my own case here. For +myself, that would have mattered little; but as to this country for +which I have planned so much, your failure would have cost us all the +Mississippi Valley, besides all the valley of the Missouri and the +Columbia. Yes, had you not succeeded, Aaron Burr would have succeeded! +Instead of a great republic reaching from ocean to ocean, we should +have had a scattered coterie of States of no endurance, no continuity, +no power. Thank God for the presence of one great, splendid thing +gloriously done! You cannot, do not, begin to measure its importance.”</p> + +<p>“We are glad that you have been pleased, Mr. Jefferson,” said Lewis +simply.</p> + +<p>“Pleased! Pleased! Say rather that I am saved! Say rather that this +country is saved! Had you proved disloyal to me—had you for any cause +turned back,” he went on, “think what had been the result! What a +load, although you knew it not, was placed on your shoulders! Suppose +that you had turned back on the trail last year, or the summer +before—suppose you had not gotten beyond the Mandans—can you measure +the difference for this republic? Can you begin to see what +responsibility rested on you? Had you failed, you would have dragged +the flag of your country in the dust. Had you come back any time +before you did, then you might have called yourself the man who ruined +his President, his friend, his country!”</p> + +<p>“And I nearly did, Mr. Jefferson!” broke out Meriwether <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span>Lewis. “Do +not praise me too much. I was tempted——”</p> + +<p>The old man turned toward him, his face grave.</p> + +<p>“You are honest! I value that above all in you—you are punctilious to +have no praise not honestly won. Listen, now!” He leaned toward the +young man, who sat beside him. “I know—I knew all along—how you were +tempted. She came here—Theodosia—the very day you left!”</p> + +<p>Lewis nodded, mute.</p> + +<p>“In some way, I knew, the conspirators fought against your success and +mine. I knew what agencies they intended to use against you—it was +this woman! Had you failed, I should have known why. I know many +things, whether or not you do. I know the character of Aaron Burr well +enough. He has been crazed, carried away by his own ambitions—God +alone knows where he would have stopped. He has been a man not +surpassed in duplicity. He would stop at nothing. Moreover, he could +make black look white. He did so for his daughter. She believed in him +absolutely. And knowing somewhat of his plans, I imagined that he +would use the attraction of that young lady for you—the power which, +all things considered, she might be supposed to possess with you. I +knew the depth of your regard for her, the deeper for its +hopelessness. And more than all, I knew the intentness and resolution +of your character. It was one motive against the other! Which was the +stronger? You were a young man—the hot blood of youth was yours, and +I know its power. Had the woman <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span>not been married, I should have lost! +You would have sold a crown for her. It was honor saved you—your +personal honor—that was what brought us success. No country is bigger +than the personal honor of its gentlemen.”</p> + +<p>The bowed head of Meriwether Lewis was his only answer. The keen-faced +old man went on:</p> + +<p>“I knew that before you had left the mouth of the Ohio River he would +do his best to stop you—I knew it before you had left Harper’s Ferry; +but I placed the issue in the lap of the gods. I applied to you all +the tests—the severest tests—that one man can to another. I let you +alone! For a year, two years, three years, I did not know. But now I +do know; and the answer is yonder flag which you have carried from one +ocean to the other. The answer is in this map, all these hides +scrawled in coal—all those new thousands of miles of land—<i>our</i> +land. God keep it safe for us always! And may the people one day know +who really secured it for them! It was not so much Thomas Jefferson as +it was Meriwether Lewis.</p> + +<p>“Each time I dreamed that my subtle enemies were tempting you, I +prayed in my own soul that you would be strong; that you would go on; +that you would be loyal to your duty, no matter what the cost. God +answered those prayers, my boy! Whatever was your need, whatever price +you paid, you did what I prayed you would do. When the months passed +and you did not come back, I knew that not even the woman you loved +could have called you back. I knew that you had learned the priceless +lesson of renunciation, of sacrifice, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span>through which alone the great +deeds of the world always have been done.”</p> + +<p>Meriwether Lewis stood before his chief, cold and pale, unable to +complete much speech. Thomas Jefferson looked at him for a moment +before he went on.</p> + +<p>“My boy, you are so simple that you will not understand. You do not +understand how well I understand you! These things are not done +without cost. If there was punishment for you, you took that +punishment—or you will! You kept your oath as an officer and your +unwritten oath as a gentleman. It is a great thing for a man to have +his honor altogether unsullied.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Jefferson!” The young man before him lifted a hand. His face was +ghastly pale. “Do not,” said he. “Do not, I beg of you!”</p> + +<p>“What is it, Merne?” exclaimed the old man. “What have I done?”</p> + +<p>“You speak of my honor. Do not! Indeed, you touch me deep.”</p> + +<p>Thomas Jefferson, wise old man, raised a hand.</p> + +<p>“I shall never listen, my son,” said he. “I will accord to you the +right of hot blood to run hot—you would not be a man worth knowing +were it not so. All I know or will know is that whatever the price, +you have paid it—or will pay it! But tell me, Merne, can you not tear +her from your soul? It will ruin you, this hopeless attachment which +you cherish. Is it always to remain with you? I bid you find some +other woman. The best in the land are waiting for you.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Jefferson, I shall never marry.”</p> + +<p>The two sat looking into each other’s eyes for just <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span>a moment. Said +Thomas Jefferson at length, slowly:</p> + +<p>“So! You have come back with all happiness, all success, for me and +for others—but not for yourself! Such proving as you have had has +fallen to the lot of but few men. I know now how great has been the +cost—I see it in your face. The fifteen millions I paid for yonder +lands was nothing. We have bought them with the happiness of a human +soul! The transient gratitude of this republic—the honor of that +little paper—bah, they are nothing! But perhaps it may be something +for you to know that at least one friend understands.”</p> + +<p>Lewis did not speak.</p> + +<p>“What is lost is lost,” the President began again after a time. “What +is broken is broken. But see how clearly I look into your soul. You +are not thinking now of what you can do for yourself. You are not +thinking of your new rank, your honors. You are asking now, at this +moment, what you can do for <i>her</i>! Is it not so?”</p> + +<p>The smile that came upon the young man’s face was a beautiful, a +wonderful thing to see. It made the wise old man sad to see it—but +thoughtful, too.</p> + +<p>“She is at Richmond, Merne?” said Mr. Jefferson a moment later.</p> + +<p>The young man nodded.</p> + +<p>“And the greatest boon she could ask would be her father’s +freedom—the freedom of the man who sought to ruin this country—the +man whom I scarcely dare release.”</p> + +<p>The thin lips compressed for a moment. It was not <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span>in implacable, +vengeful zeal—it was but in thought.</p> + +<p>“Now, then,” said Thomas Jefferson sharply, “there comes a veil, a +curtain, between you and me and all the world. No record must show +that either of us raised a hand against the full action of the law, or +planned that Colonel Burr should not suffer the full penalty of the +code. Yes, for him that is true—but <i>not for his daughter</i>!”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Jefferson!” The face of Meriwether Lewis was strangely moved. “I +see the actual greatness of your soul; but I ask nothing.”</p> + +<p>“Why, in my heart I feel like flinging open every prison door in the +world. If you have gained an empire for your country, and paid for it +as you have, could not a great and rich country afford to pay to the +extent of a woman’s happiness? When a king is crowned, he sets free +the criminals. And this day I feel as proud and happy as if I were a +king—and king of the greatest empire of all the world! I know well +who assured that kingdom. Let me be, then”—he raised his long +hand—“say nothing, do nothing. And let this end all talk between us +of these matters. I know you can keep your own counsel.”</p> + +<p>Lewis bowed silently.</p> + +<p>“Go to Richmond, Merne. You will find there a broken conspirator and +his unhappy daughter. Both are ostracized. None is so poor as to do +either of them reverence. She has no door opened to her now, though +but lately she was daughter of the Vice-President, the rich Mrs. +Alston, wife of the Governor of her State. Go to them now. Tell +Colonel Burr that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span>the President will not ask mercy for him. John +Marshall is on the bench there; but before him is a jury—John +Randolph is foreman of that jury. It is there that case will be +tried—in the jury room; and <i>politics will try it</i>! Go to Theodosia, +Merne, in her desperate need.”</p> + +<p>“But what can I do, Mr. Jefferson?” broke out his listener.</p> + +<p>“Do precisely what I tell you. Go to that social outcast. Take her on +your arm before all the world—<i>and before that jury</i>! Sit there, +before all Richmond—and that jury. An hour or so will do. Do that, +and then, as I did when I trusted you, ask no questions, but leave it +on the knees of the gods. If you can call me chief in other matters,” +the President concluded, “and can call me chief in that fashion of +thought which men call religion as well, let me give you unction and +absolution, my son. It is all that I have to give to one whom I have +always loved as if he were my own son. This is all I can do for you. +It may fail; but I would rather trust that jury to be right than trust +myself today; because, I repeat, I feel like flinging open every +prison door in all the world, and telling every erring, stumbling man +to try once more to do what his soul tells him he ought to do!”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="Second_CHAPTER_XVI" id="Second_CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<h3>THE QUALITY OF MERCY</h3> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">I</span>n Richmond jail lay Aaron Burr, the great conspirator, the ruins of +his ambition fallen about him. He had found a prison instead of a +palace. He was eager no longer to gain a scepter, but only to escape a +noose.</p> + +<p>The great conspiracy was at an end. The only question was of the +punishment the accused should have—for in the general belief he was +certain of conviction. That he never was convicted has always been one +of the most mysterious facts of a mysterious chapter in our national +development.</p> + +<p>So crowded were the hostelries of Richmond that a stranger would have +had difficulty in finding lodging there during the six months of the +Burr trial. Not so with Meriwether Lewis, now one of the country’s +famous men. A score of homes opened their doors to him. The town +buzzed over his appearance. He had once been the friend of Burr, +always the friend of Jefferson. To which side now would he lean.</p> + +<p>Luther Martin, chief of Burr’s counsel, was eager above all to have a +word with Meriwether Lewis, so close to affairs in Washington, +possibly so useful to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span>himself. Washington Irving, too, assistant to +Martin in the great trial, would gladly have had talk with him. All +asked what his errand might be. What was the leaning of the Governor +of the new Territory, a man closer to the administration at Washington +than any other?</p> + +<p>Meriwether Lewis kept his own counsel. He arranged first to see Burr +himself. The meagerly furnished anteroom of the Federal prison in +Richmond was the discredited adventurer’s reception-hall in those +days.</p> + +<p>Burr advanced to meet his visitor with something of his own old +haughtiness of mien, a little of the former brilliance of his eye.</p> + +<p>“Governor, I am delighted to see you, back safe and sound from your +journey. My congratulations, sir!”</p> + +<p>Meriwether Lewis made no reply, but gazed at him steadily, well aware +of the stinging sarcasm of his words.</p> + +<p>“I have few friends now,” said Aaron Burr. “You have many. You are on +the flood tide—it ebbs for me. When one loses, what mercy is shown to +him? That scoundrel Merry—he promised everything and gave nothing! +Yrujo—he is worse yet in his treachery. Even the French minister, +Turreau—who surely might listen to the wishes of the great French +population of the Mississippi Valley—pays no attention to their +petitions whatever, and none to mine. These were my former friends! I +promised them a country.”</p> + +<p>“You promised them a country, Colonel Burr—from what?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span></p><p>“From that great ownerless land yonder, the West. But they waited and +waited, until your success was sure. Why, that scoundrel Merry is here +this very day—the effrontery of him! He wants nothing more to do with +me. No, he is here to undertake to recoup himself in his own losses by +reasons of moneys he advanced to me some time ago. He is importuning +my son-in-law, Mr. Alston, to pay him back those funds—which once he +was so ready to furnish to us. But Mr. Alston is ruined—I am +ruined—we are all ruined. No, they waited too long!”</p> + +<p>“They waited until it was too late, yes,” Lewis returned. “That +country is American now, not British or Spanish or French. Our men are +passing across the river in thousands. They will never loose their +hold on the West. It was treason to the future that you planned—but +it was hopeless from the first!”</p> + +<p>“It would seem, sir,” said Aaron Burr, a cynical smile twisting his +thin lip, “that I may not count upon your friendship!”</p> + +<p>“That is a hard speech, Colonel Burr. I was your friend.”</p> + +<p>“More than your chief ever was! I fancy Mr. Jefferson would like to +see me pilloried, drawn and quartered, after the old way.”</p> + +<p>“You are unjust to him. You struck at the greatest ambition of his +life—struck at his heart and the heart of his country—when you +undertook to separate the West from this republic.”</p> + +<p>“I am a plain man, and a busy man,” said Aaron Burr coldly. “I must +employ my time now to the betterment <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span>of my situation. I have failed, +and you have won. But let me throw the cloak aside, since I know you +can be of no service to me. I care not what punishment you may +have—what suffering—because I recognize in you the one great cause +of my failure. It was <i>you</i>, sir, with your cursed expedition, that +defeated Aaron Burr!”</p> + +<p>He turned, proud and defiant even in his failure, and when Meriwether +Lewis looked up he was gone.</p> + +<p>Even as Burr passed, Meriwether Lewis heard a light step in the long +corridor. Under guard of the turnkey, some one stood at the door. It +was the figure of a woman—a figure which caused him to halt, caused +his heart to leap!</p> + +<p>She came toward him now, all in mourning black—hat, gown, and gloves. +Her face was pale, her eyes deep, her mouth drooping. Theodosia Alston +was always thus on her daily visit to her father’s cell.</p> + +<p>Herself the picture of failure and despair, she was used to avoiding +the eyes of all; but she saw Meriwether Lewis standing before her, +strong, tall, splendid in his manhood and vigor, in the full tide of +his success. She was almost in touch of his hand when she raised her +eyes to his.</p> + +<p>These two had met at last, after what far wanderings apart! They had +met as if each came from the Valley of the Shadows. Out of the +vastness of the unknown, over all those long and devious trails, into +what now seemed to him a world still more vast, more fraught with +desperate peril, he had come back to her. And <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span>she—what had been her +perils? What were her thoughts?</p> + +<p>As his eye fell upon her, even as his keen ear had known her coming, +the hand of Meriwether Lewis half unconsciously went to his breast. He +felt under it the packet of faded letters which he had so long kept +with him—which in some way he felt to be his talisman.</p> + +<p>Yes, it was for this that he had had them! His love and hers—this had +been his shield through all. What he saw in her grave face, her +mournful eyes uplifted to his own—this was the solution of the riddle +of his life, the reason for his moods of melancholy, the answer to a +thousand unspoken prayers. He felt his heart thrill strong and full, +felt his blood spring in strong current through his veins, until they +strained, until he felt his nerves tingle as he stood, silent, +endeavoring to still the tumult within him, now that he knew the great +and satisfying truth of truths.</p> + +<p>To her he was—what? A tall and handsome gentleman, immaculately clad, +Governor of the newest of our Territories—the largest and richest +realm ever laid under the rule of any viceroy. A bystander might have +pondered on such things, but Meriwether Lewis had no thought of them, +nor had the woman who looked up at him. No, to her eyes there stood +only the man who made her blood leap, her soul cry out:</p> + +<p>“Yea! Yea! Now I know!”</p> + +<p>To her also, from the divine compassion, was given answer for her +questionings. She knew that life for her, even though it ended now, +had been no blind <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span>puzzle, after all, but was a glorious and perfect +thing. She had called to him across the deep, and he had heard and +come! From the very grave itself he had arisen and come again to her!</p> + +<p>Even here under the shadow of the gallows—even if, as both knew in +their supreme renunciation, they must part and never meet again—for +them both there could be peaceful calm, with all life’s questions +answered, beautifully and surely answered, never again to rise for +conquering.</p> + +<p>“Sir—Captain—that is to say, Governor Lewis,” she corrected herself, +“I was not expecting you.”</p> + +<p>Her tone seemed icy, though her soul was in her eyes. She was all upon +the defense, as Lewis instantly understood. He took her hand in both +of his own, and looked into her face.</p> + +<p>She gazed up at him, and swiftly, mercifully, the tears came. Gently, +as if she had been a child, he dried them for her—as once when a boy, +he had promised to do. They were alone now. The cold silence of the +prison was about them; but their own long silence seemed a golden, +glowing thing. Thus only—in their silence—could they speak. They did +not know that they stood hand in hand.</p> + +<p>“My husband is not here,” said she at length, gently disengaging her +hand from his. “No one knows me now, every one avoids me. You must not +be seen with me—a pariah, an outcast! I am my father’s only friend. +Already they condemn him; yet he is as innocent as any man ever was.”</p> + +<p>“I shall say no word to change that belief,” said <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span>Meriwether Lewis. +“But your husband is not here? It is he whom I must see at once.”</p> + +<p>“Why must you see him?”</p> + +<p>“You must know! It is my duty to go to him and to tell him that I am +the man who—who made you weep. He must have his satisfaction. Nothing +that he can do will punish me as my own conscience has already +punished me. It is no use—I shall not ask you to forgive me—I will +not be so cheap.”</p> + +<p>“But—<i>suppose he does not know</i>?”</p> + +<p>He could only stand silent, regarding her fixedly.</p> + +<p>“He must never know!” she went on. “It is no time for quixotism to +make yet another suffer. We two must be strong enough to carry our own +secret. It is better and kinder that it should be between two than +among three. I thought you dead. Let the past remain past—let it bury +its own dead!”</p> + +<p>“It is our time of reckoning,” said he, at length. “Guilty as I have +been, sinning as I have sinned—tell me, was I alone in the wrong? +Listen. Those who joined your father’s cause were asked to join in +treason to their country. What he purposed was <i>treason</i>. Tell me, did +you know this when you came to me?”</p> + +<p>He saw the quick pain upon her face, the flush that rose to her pale +cheek. She drew herself up proudly.</p> + +<p>“I shall not answer that!” said she.</p> + +<p>“No!” he exclaimed, swiftly contrite. “Nor shall I ask it. Forgive me! +You never knew—you were innocent. You do right not to answer such a +question.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span></p><p>“I only wanted you to be happy—that was my one desire.”</p> + +<p>She looked aside, and a moment passed before she heard his deep voice +reply.</p> + +<p>“Happy! I am the most unhappy man in all the world. Happiness? +No—rags, shreds, patches of happiness—that is all that is left of +happiness for us, as men and women usually count it. But tell me, what +would make you most happy now, of these things remaining? I have come +back to pay my debts. Is there anything I can do? What would make you +happiest?”</p> + +<p>“<i>My father’s freedom!</i>”</p> + +<p>“I cannot promise that; but all that I can do I will.”</p> + +<p>“Were my father guilty, that would be the act of a noble mind. But +how? You are Mr. Jefferson’s friend, not the friend of Aaron Burr. All +the world knows that.”</p> + +<p>“Precisely. All the world knows that, or thinks it does. It thinks it +knows that Mr. Jefferson is implacable. But suppose all the world were +set to wondering? I am just wondering myself if it would be right to +suborn a juryman, like John Randolph of Roanoke!”<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span></p><p>“That is impossible. What do you mean?”</p> + +<p>“I mean this. This afternoon you and I will go into the trial-room +together. I have not yet attended a session of the court. Today I will +hand you to your seat in full sight of the jury box.”</p> + +<p>“You—give your presence to one who is now a social pariah? The ladies +of Richmond no longer speak to me. But to what purpose?”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps to small purpose. I cannot tell. But let us suppose that I go +with you, and that we sit there in sight of all. I am known to be the +intimate friend of Mr. Jefferson. <i>Ergo</i>——”</p> + +<p>“<i>Ergo</i>, Mr. Jefferson is not hostile to us! And you would do +that—you would take that chance?”</p> + +<p>“For you.”</p> + +<p>And he did—for her! That afternoon all the crowded court-room saw the +beadle make way for two persons of importance. One was a tall, grave, +distinguished-looking man, impassive, calm, a man whose face was known +to all—the new Governor of Louisiana, viceroy of the country that +Burr had lost. Upon <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span>his arm, pale, clad all in black, walked the +daughter of the prisoner at the bar!</p> + +<p>Was it in defiance or in compliance that this act was done? Was it by +orders, or against orders, or without orders, that the President’s +best friend walked in public, before all the world, with the daughter +of the President’s worst enemy? It was the guess of anybody and the +query of all.</p> + +<p>There, in full view of all the attendants, in full view of the +jury—and of John Randolph of Roanoke, its foreman—sat the two +persons who had had most to do with this scene of which they now made +a part. There sat the man who had explored the great West, and the +woman who had done her best to prevent that exploration; Mr. +Jefferson’s friend, and the daughter of the great conspirator, Aaron +Burr. <i>Ergo, ergo</i>, said many tongues swiftly—and leaned head to head +to whisper it. Mind sometimes speaks to mind—even across the rail of +a jury-box. Sympathy runs deep and swift sometimes. All the world +loved Meriwether Lewis then, would favor him—or favor what he +favored.</p> + +<p>The issue of that great trial was not to come for weeks as yet; but +when it came, and by whatever process, Aaron Burr was acquitted of the +charges brought against him. The republic for whose downfall he had +plotted set him free and bade him begone.</p> + +<p>But now, at the close of this day, the two central figures of the +tragic drama found themselves together once more. They could be alone +nowhere but in the prison room; and it was there that they parted.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span></p><p>Between them, as they stood now at last, about to part, there +stretched an abysmal gulf which might never personally be passed by +either.</p> + +<p>She faced him at length, trembling, pleading, helpless.</p> + +<p>“How mighty a thing is a man’s sense of honor!” she said slowly. “You +have done what I never would have asked you to do, and I am glad that +you did. I once asked you to do what you would not do, and I am glad +that you did not. How can I repay you for what you have done today? I +cannot tell how, but I feel that you have turned the tide for us. Ah, +if ever you felt that you owed me anything, it is paid—all your debt +to me and mine. See, I no longer weep. You have dried my tears!”</p> + +<p>“We cannot balance debits and credits,” he replied. “There is no way +in the world in which you and I can cry quits. Only one thing is +sure—I must go!”</p> + +<p>“I cannot say good-by!” said she. “Ah, do not ask me that! We are but +beginning now. Oh, see! see!”</p> + +<p>He looked at her still, an unspeakable sadness in his gaze—at her +hand, extended pleadingly toward him.</p> + +<p>“Won’t you take my hand, Merne?” said she. “Won’t you?”</p> + +<p>“I dare not,” said he hoarsely. “No, I dare not!”</p> + +<p>“Why? Do you wish to leave me still feeling that I am in your debt? +You can afford so much now,” she said brokenly, “for those who have +not won!”</p> + +<p>“Think you that I have won?” he broke out. “Theodosia—Theo—I shall +call you by your old name just once—I do not take your hand—I dare +not touch you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span>—because I love you! I always shall. God help me, it is +the truth!”</p> + +<p>“Did you get my letters?” she said suddenly, and looked him fair in +the face.</p> + +<p>Meriwether Lewis stood searching her countenance with his own grave +eyes.</p> + +<p>“<i>Letters?</i>” said he at length. “<i>What letters?</i>”</p> + +<p>Her eyes looked up at him luminously.</p> + +<p>“You are glorious!” said she. “Yes, a woman’s name would be safe with +you. You are strong. How terrible a thing is a sense of honor! But you +are glorious! Good-by!”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="Second_CHAPTER_XVII" id="Second_CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<h3>THE FRIENDS</h3> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">A</span>llied in fortunes as they had been in friendship, Meriwether Lewis +and William Clark went on side by side in their new labors in the +capital of that great land which they had won for the republic. Their +offices in title were distinct, yet scarcely so in fact, for each +helped the other, as they had always done.</p> + +<p>To these two men the new Territory of Louisiana owed not only its +discovery, but its early passing over to the day of law and order. No +other men could have done what they did in that time of disorder and +change, when, rolling to the West in countless waves, came the white +men, following the bee, crossing the great river, striking out into +the new lands, a headstrong, turbulent, and lawless population.</p> + +<p>A thousand new and petty cares came to Governor Lewis. He passed from +one duty to another, from one part of his vast province to another, +traveling continually with the crude methods of transportation of that +period, and busy night and day. Courts must be established. The +compilation of the archives must be cared for. Records must be +instituted to clear up the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span>swarm of conflicts over land-titles. +Scores of new duties arose, and scores of new remedies needed to be +devised.</p> + +<p>The first figure of the growing capital of St. Louis, the new Governor +was also the central figure of all social activities, the cynosure of +all eyes. But the laughing belles of St. Louis at length sighed and +gave him up—they loved him as Governor, since they might not as man. +Wise, firm, deliberate, kind, sad—he was an old man now, though still +young in years.</p> + +<p>Scattered up and down the great valley, above and below St. Louis, and +harboring in that town, were many of the late adherents of Burr’s +broken conspiracy. These liked not the oncoming of the American +government, enforced by so rigid an executive as the one who now held +power. Threats came to the ears of Meriwether Lewis, who was hated by +the Burr adherents as the cause of their discomfiture; but he, wholly +devoid of the fear of any man, only laughed at them. Honest and +blameless, it was difficult for any enemy to injure him, and no man +cared to meet Meriwether Lewis in the open.</p> + +<p>But at last one means of attack was found. Once more—the last +time—the great heart of a noble man was pierced.</p> + +<p>“Will,” said he to his friend, as they met at William Clark’s home, +according to their frequent custom, “I am in trouble.”</p> + +<p>“Fancied trouble, Merne,” said Clark. “You’re always finding it!”</p> + +<p>“Would I might call it fancied! But this is something <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span>in the way of +facts, and very stubborn facts. See here”—he held out certain papers +in his hand—“by this morning’s mail I get back these bills +protested—protested by the government at Washington! And they are +bills that I have drawn to pay the expenses of administering my office +here.”</p> + +<p>“Tut, tut!” said William Clark gravely. “Come, let us see.”</p> + +<p>“Look here, and here! Will, you know that I am a man of no great +fortune. You also know that I have made certain enemies in this +country. But now I am not supported by my own government. I am +ruined—I am a broken man! Did you think that this country could do +that for either of us?”</p> + +<p>“But Merne, you, the soul of honor——”</p> + +<p>“Some enemy has done this! What influences have been set to work, I +cannot say; but here are the bills, and there are others out in other +hands—also protested, I have no doubt. I am publicly discredited, +disgraced. I know not what has been said of me at Washington.”</p> + +<p>“That is the trouble,” said William Clark slowly. “Washington is so +far. But now, you must not let this trouble you. ’Tis only some +six-dollar-a-week clerk in Washington that has done it. You must not +consider it to be the deliberate act of any responsible head of the +government. You take things too hard, Merne. I will not have you +brooding over this—it will never do. You have the megrims often +enough, as it is. Come here and kiss the baby! He is named for you, +Meriwether Lewis—and he has two teeth. Sit down and behave yourself. +Judy will be here in a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span>minute. You are among your friends. Do not +grieve. ’Twill all come well!”</p> + +<p>This was in the year 1809. Mr. Jefferson’s embargo on foreign trade +had paralyzed all Western commerce. Our ships lay idle; our crops +rotted; there was no market. The name of Jefferson was now in general +execration. In March, when his second term as President expired, he +had retired to private life at Monticello. He had written his last +message to Congress that very spring, in which he said of the people +of his country:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>I trust that in their steady character, unshaken by +difficulties, in their love of liberty, obedience to law, +and support of the public authorities, I see a sure +guarantee of the permanence of our republic; and retiring +from the charge of their affairs, I carry with me the +consolation of a firm persuasion that Heaven has in store +for our beloved country long ages to come of prosperity and +happiness.</p></div> + +<p>Whatever the veering self-interest of others led them to think or do +regarding the memory of that great man, Meriwether Lewis trusted +Thomas Jefferson absolutely, and relied wholly on his friendship and +his counsel. Now, in the hour of trouble, he resolved to journey to +Monticello to ask the advice of his old chief, as he had always done.</p> + +<p>In this he was well supported by his friend Dr. Saugrain.</p> + +<p>“You are ill, Governor—you have the fever of these lands,” urged that +worthy. “By all means leave this country and go back to the East. Go +by way of New <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span>Orleans and the sea. The voyage will do you much good.”</p> + +<p>“Peria,” said Meriwether Lewis to his French servant and attendant, +“make ready my papers for my journey. Have a small case, such as can +be carried on horseback. I must take with me all my journals, my maps, +and certain of the records of my office here. Get my old spyglass; I +may need it, and I always fancy to have it with me when I travel, as +was my custom in the West. Secure for our costs in travel some +gold—three or four hundred dollars, I imagine. I will take some in my +belt, and give the rest to you for the saddle-trunk.”</p> + +<p>“Your Excellency plans to go by land, then, and not by sea?”</p> + +<p>“I do not know. I must save all the time possible. And Peria——”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Excellency.”</p> + +<p>“Have my pistols well cared for, and your own as well. See that my +small powder-canister, with bullets, is with them in the holsters. The +trails are none too safe. Be careful whom you advise of our plans. My +business is of private nature, and I do not wish to be disturbed. And +here, take my watch,” he concluded. “It was given to me by a friend—a +good friend, Mr. Wirt, and I prize it very much—so much that I fear +to have it on my person. Care for it in the saddle-trunk.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Excellency.”</p> + +<p>“Do not call me ‘Excellency’—I detest the title! I am Governor Lewis, +and may so be distinguished. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span>Go now, and do as I have told you. We +shall need about ten men to man the barge. Arrange it. Have our goods +ready for an early start tomorrow morning.”</p> + +<p>All that night, sleepless, fevered, almost distracted, Meriwether +Lewis sat at his desk, writing, or endeavoring to write, with what +matters upon his soul we may not ask. But the long night wore away at +last, and morning came, a morning of the early fall, beautiful as it +may be only in that latitude. Without having closed his eyes in sleep, +the Governor made ready for his journey to the East.</p> + +<p>Whether or not Peria was faithful to all his instructions one cannot +say, but certainly all St. Louis knew of the intended departure of the +Governor. They loved him, these folk, trusted him, would miss him now, +and they gathered almost <i>en masse</i> to bid him godspeed upon his +journey.</p> + +<p>“These papers for Mr. Jefferson, Governor—certain land-titles, of +which we spoke to him last year. Do you not remember?” Thus Chouteau, +always busy with affairs.</p> + +<p>“These samples of cloth and of satin, Governor,” said a dark-eyed +French girl, smiling up at him. “Would you match them for me in the +East? I am to be married in the spring!”</p> + +<p>“The price of furs—learn of that, Governor, if you can, while on your +journey. The embargo has ruined the trade in all this inland country!” +It was Manuel Liza, swarthy, taciturn, who thus voiced a general +feeling.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span></p><p>“Books, more books, my son!” implored Dr. Saugrain. “We are growing +here—I must keep up with the surgery of the day; I must know the new +discoveries in medicine. Bring me books. And take this little case of +medicines. You are ill, my son—the fever has you!”</p> + +<p>“My people—they mourn for me as dead,” said Big White, the Mandan, +who had never returned to his people up the Missouri River since the +repulse of his convoy by the Sioux. “Tell the Great Father that he +must send me soldiers to take me back home to my people. My heart is +poor!”</p> + +<p>“Governor, see if you can get me an artificial limb of some sort while +you are in the East.”</p> + +<p>It was young George Shannon who said this, leaning on his crutch. +Shannon had not long ago returned from another trip up the river, +where in an encounter with the Sioux he had received a wound which +cost him a leg and almost cost him his life—though later, as has +already been said, he was to become a noted figure at the bar of the +State of Kentucky.</p> + +<p>“Yes! Yes, and yes!” Their leader, punctilious as he was kind, agreed +to all these commissions—prizing them, indeed, as proof of the +confidence of his people.</p> + +<p>He was ready to depart, but stood still, looking about for the tall +figure which presently he saw advancing through the throng—a tall man +with wide mouth and sunny hair, with blue eye and stalwart +frame—William Clark—the friend whom he loved so much, and whom he +was now to see for the last time.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span></p><p>General Clark carried upon his arm the baby which had been named after +the Governor of the new Territory. Lewis took him from his father’s +arms and pressed the child’s cool face to his own, suddenly trembling +a little about his own lips as he felt the tender flesh of the infant. +No child of his own might he ever hold thus! He gave him back with a +last look into the face of his friend.</p> + +<p>“Good-by, Will!” said he.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="Second_CHAPTER_XVIII" id="Second_CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<h3>THE WILDERNESS</h3> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">T</span>he Governor’s barge swept down the rolling flood of the Mississippi, +impelled by the blades of ten sturdy oarsmen. Little by little the +blue smoke of St. Louis town faded beyond the level of the forest. The +stone tower of the old Spanish stockade, where floated the American +flag, disappeared finally.</p> + +<p>Meriwether Lewis sat staring back, but seeming not to note what +passed. He did not even notice a long bateau which left the wharf just +before his own and preceded him down the river, now loafing along +aimlessly, sometimes ahead, sometimes behind that of the Governor and +his party. In time he turned to his lap-desk and began his endless +task of writing, examining, revising. Now and again he muttered to +himself. The fever was indeed in his blood!</p> + +<p>They proceeded thus, after the usual fashion of boat travel in those +days, down the great river, until they had passed the mouth of the +Ohio and reached what was known as the Chickasaw Bluffs, below the +confluence of the two streams. Here was a little post of the army, +arranged for the commander, Major Neely, Indian agent at that point.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span></p><p>As was the custom, all barges tied up here; and the Governor’s craft +moored at the foot of the bluff. Its chief passenger was so weak that +he hardly could walk up the steep steps cut in the muddy front of the +bank.</p> + +<p>“Governor Lewis!” exclaimed Major Neely, as he met him. “You are ill! +You are in an ague!”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps, perhaps. Give me rest here for a day or two, if you please. +Then I fancy I shall be strong enough to travel East. See if you can +get horses for myself and my party—I am resolved not to go by sea. I +have not time.”</p> + +<p>The Governor of Louisiana, haggard, flushed with fever, staggered as +he followed his friend into the apartment assigned to him in one of +the cabins of the little post. He wore his usual traveling-garb; but +now, for some strange reason he seemed to lack his usual immaculate +neatness. Instead of the formal dress of his office, he wore an old, +stained, faded uniform coat, its pocket bulging with papers. This he +kept at the head of his bed when at length he flung himself down, +almost in the delirium of fever.</p> + +<p>He lay here for two days, restless, sleepless. But at length, having +in the mean time scarcely tasted food, he rose and declared that he +must go on.</p> + +<p>“Major,” said he, “I can ride now. Have you horses for the journey?”</p> + +<p>“Are you sure, Governor, that your strength is sufficient?” Neely +hesitated as he looked at the wasted form before him, at the hollow +eye, the fevered face.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span></p><p>“It is not a question of my personal convenience, Major,” said +Meriwether Lewis. “Time presses for me. I must go on!”</p> + +<p>“At least you shall not go alone,” said Major Neely. “You should have +some escort. Doubtless you have important papers?”</p> + +<p>Meriwether Lewis nodded.</p> + +<p>“My servant has arranged everything, I fancy. Can you get an extra man +or two? The Natchez Trace is none too safe.”</p> + +<p>That military road, as they both knew, was indeed no more than a horse +path cut through the trackless forest which lay across the States of +Mississippi, Tennessee and Kentucky. Its reputation was not good. Many +a trader passing north from New Orleans with coin, many a settler +passing west with packhorses and household effects, had disappeared on +this wilderness road, and left no sign. It was customary for parties +of any consequence to ride in companies of some force.</p> + +<p>It was a considerable cavalcade, therefore, which presently set forth +from Chickasaw Bluffs on the long ride eastward to cross the +Alleghanies, which meant some days or weeks spent in the saddle. +Apprehension sat upon all, even as they started out. Their eyes rested +upon the wasted form of their leader, the delirium of whose fever +seemed still to hold him. He muttered to himself as he rode, resented +the near approach of any traveling companion, demanded to be alone. +They looked at him in silence.</p> + +<p>“He talks to himself all the time,” said one of the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span>party—a new man, +hired by Neely at the army post. He rode with Peria now; and none but +Peria knew that he had come from the long barge which had clung to the +Governor’s craft all the way down the river—and which, unknown to +Lewis himself, had tied up and waited at Chickasaw Bluffs. He was a +stranger to Neely and to all the others, but seemed ready enough to +take pay for service along the Trace, declaring that he himself was +intending to go that way. He was a man well dressed, apparently of +education and of some means. He rode armed.</p> + +<p>“What is wrong with the Governor, think you?” inquired this man once +more of Peria, Lewis’s servant.</p> + +<p>“It is his way,” shrugged Peria. “We leave him alone. His hand is +heavy when he is angry.”</p> + +<p>“He rides always with his rifle across his saddle?”</p> + +<p>“Always, on the trail.”</p> + +<p>“Loaded, I presume—and his pistols?”</p> + +<p>“You may well suppose that,” said Peria.</p> + +<p>“Oh, well,” said the new member of the party, “’tis just as well to be +safe. I lifted his saddlebags and the desk, or trunk, whatever you +call it, that is on the pack horse yonder. Heavy, eh?”</p> + +<p>“Naturally,” grinned Peria.</p> + +<p>They looked at one another. And thereafter the two, as was well noted, +conversed often and more intimately together as the journey +progressed.</p> + +<p>“Now it’s an odd thing about his coat,” volunteered the stranger later +in that same day. “He always keeps it on—that ragged old uniform. Was +it a uniform, do you believe? Can’t the Governor of the new Territory +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span>wear a coat that shows his own quality? This one’s a dozen years old, +you might say.”</p> + +<p>“He always wears it on the trail,” said Peria. “At home he watches it +as if it held some treasure.”</p> + +<p>“Treasure?” The shifty eyes of the new man flashed in sudden interest. +“What treasure? Papers, perhaps—bills—documents—money? His pocket +bulges at the side. Something there—yes, eh?”</p> + +<p>“Hush!” said Peria. “You do not know that man, the Governor. He has +the eye of a hawk, the ear of a fox—you can keep nothing from him. He +fears nothing in the world, and in his moods—you’d best leave him +alone. Don’t let him suspect, or——” And Peria shook his head.</p> + +<p>The cavalcade was well out into the wilderness east of the Mississippi +on that afternoon of October 8, in the year 1809. Stopping at the +wayside taverns which now and then were found, they had progressed +perhaps a hundred miles to the eastward. The day was drawing toward +its close when Peria rode up and announced that one or two of the +horses had strayed from the trail.</p> + +<p>“I have told you to be more careful, Peria,” expostulated Governor +Lewis. “There are articles on the packhorse which I need at night. Who +is this new man that is so careless? Why do you not keep the horses +up? Go, then, and get them. Major Neely, would you be so kind as to +join the men and assure them of bringing on the horses?”</p> + +<p>“And what of you, Governor?”</p> + +<p>“I shall go on ahead, if you please. Is there no <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span>house near by? You +know the trail. Perhaps we can get lodgings not far on.”</p> + +<p>“The first white man’s house beyond here,” answered Neely, “belongs to +an old man named Grinder. ’Tis no more than a few miles ahead. Suppose +we join you there?”</p> + +<p>“Agreed,” said Lewis, and setting spurs to his horse, he left them.</p> + +<p>It was late in the evening when at length Meriwether Lewis reined up +in front of the somewhat unattractive Grinder homestead cabin, +squatted down alongside the Natchez Trace; a place where sometimes +hospitality of a sort was dispensed. It was an ordinary double cabin +that he saw, two cob-house apartments with a covered space between +such as might have been found anywhere for hundreds of miles on either +side of the Alleghanies at that time. At his call there appeared a +woman—Mrs. Grinder, she announced herself.</p> + +<p>“Madam,” he inquired, “could you entertain me and my party for the +night? I am alone at present, but my servants will soon be up. They +are on the trail in search of some horses which have strayed.”</p> + +<p>“My husband is not here,” said the woman. “We are not well fixed, but +I reckon if we can stand it all the time, you can for a night. How +many air there in your party?”</p> + +<p>“A half-dozen, with an extra horse or two.”</p> + +<p>“I reckon we can fix ye up. Light down and come in.”</p> + +<p>She was noting well her guest, and her shrewd eyes <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span>determined him to +be no common man. He had the bearing of a gentleman, the carriage of a +man used to command. Certain of his garments seemed to show wealth, +although she noted, when he stripped off his traveling-smock, that he +wore not a new coat, but an old one—very old, she would have said, +soiled, stained, faded. It looked as if it had once been part of a +uniform.</p> + +<p>Her guest, whoever he was—and she neither knew nor asked, for the +wilderness tavern held no register, and few questions were asked or +answered—paid small attention to the woman. He carried his saddlebags +into the room pointed out to him, flung them down, and began to pace +up and down, sometimes talking to himself. The woman eyed him from +time to time as she went about her duties.</p> + +<p>“Set up and eat,” she said at last. “I reckon your men are not +coming.”</p> + +<p>“I thank you, Madam,” said the stranger, with gentle courtesy. “Do not +let me trouble you too much. I have been ill of late, and do not as +yet experience much hunger.”</p> + +<p>Indeed, he scarcely tasted the food. He sat, as she noted, a long +time, gazing fixedly out of the door, over the forest, toward the +West.</p> + +<p>“Is it not a beautiful world, Madam?” said he, after a time, in a +voice of great gentleness and charm. “I have seen the forest often +thus in the West in the evening, when the day was done. It is +wonderful!”</p> + +<p>“Yes. Some of my folks is thinking of going out further into the +West.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span></p><p>He turned to her abstractedly, yet endeavoring to be courteous.</p> + +<p>“A wonderful country, Madam!” said he; and so he fell again into his +moody staring out beyond the door.</p> + +<p>After a time the hostess of the backwoods cabin sought to make up a +bed for him, but he motioned to her to desist.</p> + +<p>“It is not necessary,” said he. “I have slept so much in the open that +’tis rarely I use a bed at all. I see now that my servant has come up, +and is in the yard yonder. Tell him to bring my robes and blankets and +spread them here on the floor, as I always have them. That will answer +quite well enough, thank you.”</p> + +<p>Peria, it seemed, had by this time found his way to the cabin along +the trail. He was alone.</p> + +<p>“Come, man!” said Lewis. “Make down my bed for me—I am ill. And tell +me, where is my powder? Where are the bullets for my pistols? I find +them empty. Haven’t I told you to be more careful about these things? +And where is my rifle-powder? The canister is here, but ’tis empty. +Come, come, I must have better service than this!”</p> + +<p>But even as he chided the remissness of his servant, he seemed to +forget the matter in his mind. Presently he was again pacing apart, +stopping now and then to stare out over the forest.</p> + +<p>“I must have a place to write,” said he at length. “I shall be awake +for a time tonight, occupied with business matters of importance. +Where is Major <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span>Neely? Where are the other men? Why have they not come +up?”</p> + +<p>Peria could not or did not answer these questions, but sullenly went +about the business of making his master as comfortable as he might, +and then departed to his own quarters, down the hill, in another +building. The old backwoods woman herself withdrew to the other +apartment, beyond the open space of the double cabin.</p> + +<p>The soft, velvet darkness of night in the forest now came on apace—a +night of silence. There was not even the call of a tree toad. The +voice of the whippoorwill was stilled at that season of the year. If +there were human beings awake, alert, at that time, they made no +sound. Meriwether Lewis was alone—alone in the wilderness again. Its +silences, its mysteries, drew about him.</p> + +<p>But now he stood, not enjoying in his usual fashion the familiar +feeling of the night in the forest, the calm, the repose it +customarily brought to him. He stood looking intently, as if he +expected some one—nay, indeed, as if he saw some one—as if he saw a +face! What face was it?</p> + +<p>At last he made his way across the room to the heavy saddle-case which +had been placed there. He flung the lid open, and felt among the +contents. It seemed to him there was not so much within the case as +there should have been. He missed certain papers, and resolved to ask +Peria about them. He could not find the little bags of coin which he +expected; but he found the watch, lying covered in a corner of the +case. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span>He drew it out and, stepping toward the flickering candle, +opened it, gazing fixedly at the little silhouette cut round to fit in +the back of the case.</p> + +<p>It was a face that he had seen before—a hundred times he had gazed +thus at it on the far Western trails.</p> + +<p>He brought the little portrait close up to his eyes—but not close to +his lips. No, he did not kiss the face of the woman who once had +written to him:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>You must not kiss my picture, because I am in your power.</p></div> + +<p>Meriwether Lewis had won his long fight! He had mastered the human +emotions of his soul at last. The battle had been such that he sat +here now, weak and spent. He sat looking at the face which had meant +so much to him all these years.</p> + +<p>There came into his mind some recollection of words that she had +written to him once—something about the sound of water. He lifted his +head and listened. Yes, there was a sound coming faintly through the +night—the trickle of a little brook in the ravine below the window.</p> + +<p>Always, he recalled, she had spoken of the sound of water, saying that +that music would blot out memory—saying that water would wash out +secrets, would wash out sins. What was it she had said? What was it +she had written to him long ago? What did it mean—about the water?</p> + +<p>The sound of the little brook came to his ears again in some shift of +the wind. He rose and stumbled toward the window, carrying the candle +in his hand. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span>His haggard face was lighted by its flare as he stood +there, leaning out, listening.</p> + +<p>It was then that his doom came to him.</p> + +<p>There came the sound of a shot; a second; and yet another.</p> + +<p>The woman in the cabin near by heard them clearly enough. She rose and +listened. There was no sound from the other cabins. The servants paid +no attention to the shots, if they had heard them—and why should they +not have heard them? No one called out, no one came running.</p> + +<p>Frightened, the woman rose, and after a time stepped timidly across +the covered space between the two rooms, toward the light which she +saw shining faintly through the cracks of the door. She heard groans +within.</p> + +<p>A tall and ghastly figure met her as she approached the door. She saw +his face, white and haggard and stained. From a wound in the forehead +a broad band of something dark fell across his cheek. From his throat +something dark was welling. He clutched a hand on his breast—and his +fingers were dark.</p> + +<p>He was bleeding from three wounds; but still he stood and spoke to +her.</p> + +<p>“In God’s name, Madam,” said he, “bring me water! I am killed!”</p> + +<p>She ran away, she knew not where, calling to the others to come; but +they did not come. She was alone. Once more, forgetful of her errand, +incapable of rendering aid, she went back to the door.</p> + +<p>She heard no sound. She flung open the door and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span>peered into the room. +The candle was standing, broken and guttering, on the floor. She could +see the scattered belongings of the traveling-cases, empty now. The +occupant of the room was gone! In terror she fled once more, back to +her own room, and cowered in her bed.</p> + +<p>Staggering, groping, his hands strained to him to hold in the life +that was passing, Meriwether Lewis had left the room where he had +received his wounds, and had stepped out into the air, into the night. +All the resolution of his soul was bent upon one purpose. He +staggered, but still stumbled onward.</p> + +<p>It seemed to him that he heard the sound of water, and blindly, +unconsciously, he headed that way. He entered the shadow of the woods +and passed down the little slope of the hill. He fell, rather than +seated himself, at the side of the brook whose voice he had heard in +the night. He was alone. The wilderness was all about him—the +wilderness which had always called to him, and which now was to claim +him.</p> + +<p>He sat, gasping, almost blind, feeling at his pockets. At last he +found it—one of the sulphur matches made for him by good old Dr. +Saugrain. Tremblingly he essayed to light it, and at last he saw the +flare.</p> + +<p>With skill of custom, though now almost unconsciously, his fingers +felt for dry bits of bark and leaves, little twigs. Yes, the match +served its purpose. A tiny flame flickered between his feet as he sat.</p> + +<p>Did any eye see Meriwether Lewis as he sat there in the dark at his +last camp fire? Did any guilty eye look on him making his last fight?</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span></p><p>He sat alone by the little fire. His hand, dropping sometimes, +responsive only to the supreme effort of his will, fumbled in the +bosom of his old coat. There were some papers there—some things which +no other eyes than his must ever see! Here was a secret—it must +always be a secret—her secret and his! He would hide forever from the +world what had been theirs in common.</p> + +<p>The tiny flame rose up more strongly, twice, thrice, five times—six +times in all! One by one he had placed them on the flames—these +letters that he had carried on his heart for years—the six letters +that she had written him when he was far away in the unknown. He held +the last one long, trying to see the words. He groaned. He was almost +blind. His trembling finger found the last word of the last letter. It +rose before him in tall characters now, all done in flame and not in +block—<i>Theodosia!</i></p> + +<p>Now they were gone! No one could ever see them. No one could know how +he had treasured them all these years. She was safe!</p> + +<p>Before his soul, in the time of his great accounting, there rose the +passing picture of the years. Free from suffering, now absolved, +resigned, he was a boy once more, and all the world was young. He saw +again the slopes of old Albemarle, beautiful in the green and gold of +an early autumn day in old Virginia. He heard again his mother’s +voice. What was it that she said? He bent his head as if to listen.</p> + +<p>“Your wish—your great desire—your hope—your dream—all these shall +be yours at last, even though <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span>the trail be long, even though the +burden be too heavy to carry farther.”</p> + +<p>So then she had known—she had spoken the truth in her soothsaying +that day so long ago! Now his fading eye looked about him, and he +nodded his head weakly, as if to assent to something he had heard.</p> + +<p>He had so earnestly longed—he had so greatly desired—to be an +honorable man! He had so longed and desired to do somewhat for others +than himself! And here was peace, here indeed was conquest. His great +desire was won!</p> + +<p>His lax hands dropped between his knees as he sat. A little gust of +wind sweeping down the gully caught up some of the white +ashes—stained as they were with blood that dropped from his veins as +he bent above them—carried them down upon the tiny thread of the +little brook. It carried them away toward the sea—his blood, the +ashes, the secret which they hid.</p> + +<p>At length he rose once more, his splendid will still forcing his +broken body to do its bidding. Half crawling up the bank, once more he +stood erect and staggered back across the yard, into the room. The +woman heard him there again. Pity arose in her breast; once more she +mastered her terror and approached the door.</p> + +<p>“In God’s name, Madam,” said he, “bring me water—wine! I am so +strong, I am hard to die! Bind up my wounds—I have work to do! Heal +me these wounds!”</p> + +<p>But not her power nor any power could heal such <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span>wounds as his. Once +more she called out for aid, and none came.</p> + +<p>The night wore away. The dying man lay on his bearskin pallet on the +floor, motionless now and silent, but still breathing, and calm at +last. It was dawn when the recreant servant found him there.</p> + +<p>“Peria,” said Meriwether Lewis, turning his fading eye on the man, “do +not fear me. I will not hurt you. But my watch—I cannot find it—it +seems gone. I am hard to die, it seems. But the little watch—it +had—a—picture—Ah!”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="Second_CHAPTER_XIX" id="Second_CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2> + +<h3>DOWN TO THE SEA</h3> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">M</span>any days later the French servant, Peria, rode up to the gate, to the +door, of Locust Hall, the Lewis homestead in old Virginia. The news he +bore had preceded him. He met a stern-faced, dark-browed woman, who +regarded him coldly when he announced his name, regarded him in +silence. The servant found himself able to make but small speech.</p> + +<p>“Your son was a brave man—he lived long,” said Peria, haltingly, at +the close of his story.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said the mother of Meriwether Lewis. “He was a brave man. He +was strong!”</p> + +<p>“He was unhappy; but why he should have killed himself——”</p> + +<p>“Stop!” The dark eyes blazed upon him. “What are you saying? My son +kill himself? It is an outrage to his memory to suggest it. He was the +victim of some enemy. As for you, begone!”</p> + +<p>So Peria passed from sight and view, and almost from memory, not +accused, not acquitted. Long afterward a brother of Meriwether Lewis +met him, and found that he was carrying the old rifle and the little +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span>watch which every member of the family knew so well. These things had +been missing from the effects of Meriwether Lewis in the +inventory—indeed, little remained in the traveling-cases save a few +scattered papers and the old spyglass. There was no gold. There were +no letters of any kind.</p> + +<p>Soon there came down from Monticello to Locust Hall the coach of +Thomas Jefferson.</p> + +<p>“Madam,” said he, when finally he stood at the side of the mistress of +Locust Hall, “it is heavy news I thought to bring—I see that you have +heard it. What shall I say—what can we say to each other? I mourn him +as if he were my own son.”</p> + +<p>“It has come at last,” said the mother of Meriwether Lewis. “The +wilderness has him, as I knew it would! I told him, here at this +place, when he was a boy, that at last the load would weigh him down.”</p> + +<p>“The rumor is that he died by his own hand. I find it difficult to +believe. It is far more likely that some enemy or robber was guilty of +the deed.”</p> + +<p>“Whom had he ever harmed?” she demanded of Jefferson.</p> + +<p>“None in the world, with intent; but he had enemies. Whether by his +own hand or that of another, he died a gallant gentleman. He would not +think of himself alone. But listen—bear with me if I tell you that +could your son send out the news himself, perhaps he might say ’twas +by his own hand he perished, and not by that of another!”</p> + +<p>“Never, Mr. Jefferson, never will I believe that! It was not in his +nature!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span></p><p>“I agree with you. But when we take the last wishes of the dead, we +take what is the law for us. And the law of your son was the law of +honor. Suppose, my dear madam, there were a woman concerned in this +matter?”</p> + +<p>“He never wronged a woman in his life——”</p> + +<p>“Precisely, nor in his death would he wrong one! Do you begin to see?”</p> + +<p>“Did he ever speak to you of her?”</p> + +<p>“It was impossible that he should; but I knew them both. I knew their +secret. Were it in his power to do so, I am sure that he carried his +secret with him, so that it might never be shared by any. That secret +he has guarded in death as in life.”</p> + +<p>“But shall I let that stain rest on his name?” The dark eye of the old +woman gleamed upon her son’s friend.</p> + +<p>“Do not I love him also? I am speaking now only of his own wish—not +ours. I know that he would shield her at any cost—nay, I know he did +shield her at any cost. May not we shield him—and her—no matter what +the cost to us? If he laid that wish on us, ought we not to respect +it? Madam, I shall frame a letter which will serve to appease the +criticism of the public in regard to your son. If it be not the exact +truth—and who shall tell the exact truth?—it will at least be +accepted as truth, and it will forever silence any talk. What should +the public know of a life such as his? There are some lives which are +tragically large, and such was his. He lived with honor, and he could +not die without it. What was in his heart <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span>we shall not ask to know. +If ever he sinned, he is purged of any sin.”</p> + +<p>Jefferson was silent for a moment, holding the bereaved mother’s hand +in his own.</p> + +<p>“He shall have a monument, madam,” he went on. “It shall mark his +grave in yonder wilderness. They shall name at least a county for him, +and hold it his sacred grave-place—there in Tennessee, by the old +Indian road. Let him lie there under the trees—that is as he would +wish. He shall have some monument—yes, but how futile is all that! +His greatest monument will be in the vast new country which he has +brought to us. He was a man of a natural greatness not surpassed by +any of his time.”</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>What of Theodosia Alston, loyal and lofty soul, blameless wife, +devoted and pathetic adherent to the fallen fortunes of her +ill-starred father?</p> + +<p>Three years after Meriwether Lewis laid him down to sleep in the +forest, a ship put out from Charleston wharf. It was bound for the +city of New York, where at that time there was living a broken, +homeless, forsaken man named Aaron Burr—a man execrated at home, +discredited abroad, but who now, after years of exile, had crept home +to the country which had cast him out.</p> + +<p>A passenger on that ship was Theodosia Alston, the daughter of Aaron +Burr. That much is known. The ship sailed. It never came to port. No +more is known.</p> + +<p>To this day none knows what was the fate of Aaron <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 355]</a></span>Burr’s daughter, +one of the most appealing figures of her day, a woman made for +happiness, but continually in close touch with tragedy. Wherever her +body may lie, she has her wish. The sound of the eternal waters is the +continuous requiem in her ears. Her secret, if she had one, is washed +away long ere this, and is one with the eternal secrets of the sea. As +to her sin, she had none. Above her memory, since she has no grave, +there might best be inscribed the words she wrote at a time of her own +despair:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“I hope to be happy in the next world, for I have not been +bad in this.”</p></div> + +<p>Did the little brook in Tennessee ever find its way down to the sea? +Did it carry a scattered drop of a man’s lifeblood, little by little +thinning, thinning on its long journey? Did ever a wandering flake of +ashes, melting, rest on its bosom for so great a journey as that +toward the sea?</p> + +<p>Did the sound of a voice in the wilderness, passing across the unknown +leagues, ever reach an ear that heard? Who can tell? Perhaps in the +great ten thousand years such things may be—perhaps deep calls to +deep, and there are no longer sins nor tears.</p> + +<p>A million hearth-fires mark the camp-fire trail of Meriwether Lewis. +We own the country which he found, and for which he paid. He sleeps. +Above him stands the monument which his chief assigned to him—his +country. It rises now in glory and splendor, the perfected vision +which he saw.</p> + +<p>That is the happy ending of his story—his country! It is ours. As its +title came to us in honor, it is for <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[Pg 356]</a></span>us to love it honorably, to use +it honorably, and to defend it honorably. None may withstand us while +we hold to his ambitions—while our sons measure to the stature of +such a man.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> + +<div class="centerbox2 bbox"> + +<p class="center"> +“<i>The Books You Like to Read</i><br /> +<i>at the Price You Like to Pay</i>”</p> + +<hr class="largest" /> + +<h2>There Are Two Sides<br /> +to Everything—</h2> + +<p>—including the wrapper which covers +every Grosset & Dunlap book. When +you feel in the mood for a good romance, +refer to the carefully selected list +of modern fiction comprising most of +the successes by prominent writers of +the day which is printed on the back of +every Grosset & Dunlap book wrapper.<br /> +<br /> +You will find more than five hundred +titles to choose from—books for every +mood and every taste and every pocket-book.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Don’t forget the other side, but in case</i> +<i>the wrapper is lost, write to the publishers</i> +<i>for a complete catalog.</i></p> + +<hr class="largest" /> + +<p class="center"><i>There is a Grosset & Dunlap Book</i><br /> +<i>for every mood and for every taste</i></p></div> + +<hr class="large" /> + +<div class="centerbox bbox2"><div class="double2"> </div> + +<h3>EMERSON HOUGH’S NOVELS</h3> + +<div class="double"> </div> + +<p>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap’s list.</p> + +<div class="double"> </div> + +<p><span class="u">THE COVERED WAGON</span></p> + +<p>An epic story of the Great West from which the famous +picture was made.<br /></p> + +<p><span class="u">THE WAY OF A MAN</span></p> + +<p>A colorful romance of the pioneer West before the +Civil War.</p> + +<p><span class="u">THE SAGEBRUSHER</span></p> + +<p>An Eastern girl answers a matrimonial ad. and goes out +West in the hills of Montana to find her mate.</p> + +<p><span class="u">THE WAY OUT</span></p> + +<p>A romance of the feud district of the Cumberland country.</p> + +<p><span class="u">THE BROKEN GATE</span></p> + +<p>A story of broken social conventions and of a woman’s +determination to put the past behind her.</p> + +<p><span class="u">THE WAY TO THE WEST</span></p> + +<p>Daniel Boone, Davy Crockett and Kit Carson figure in +this story of the opening of the West.</p> + +<p><span class="u">HEART’S DESIRE</span></p> + +<p>The story of what happens when the railroad came to a +little settlement in the far West.</p> + +<p><span class="u">THE PURCHASE PRICE</span></p> + +<p>A story of Kentucky during the days after the American +Revolution.</p> + +<div class="double"> </div> + +<h4>GROSSET & DUNLAP, <span class="smcap">Publishers</span>, NEW YORK</h4> + +<div class="double3"> </div></div> + +<hr class="large" /> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Footnotes:</span></h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> During the following winter Mr. Merry had opportunity to +fulfill his threat. In February, 1804, the President again invited him +to dine, in the following words:</p> + +<p>“Thomas Jefferson asks the favor of Mr. Merry to dine with a small +party of friends on Monday, the 13th, at half past three.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Merry, still smarting all these months, stood on his dignity and +addressed his reply to the Secretary of State. +</p> + +<p>Reviewing at some length what seemed to him important events, he +added:</p> + +<p>“If Mr. Merry should be mistaken as to the meaning of Mr. Jefferson’s +note, and it should prove that the invitation is designed for him in a +public capacity, he trusts that Mr. Jefferson will feel equally that +it must be out of his power to accept it, without receiving +previously, through the channel of the Secretary of State, the +necessary formal assurance of the President’s determination to observe +toward him those niceties of distinction which have heretofore been +shown by the executive government of the United States to the persons +who have been accredited as our Majesty’s ministers.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Merry has the honor to request of Mr. Madison to lay this +explanation before the President, and to accompany it with the +strongest assurance of his highest respect and consideration.”</p> + +<p>The Secretary of State, who seems to have been acting as social +secretary to Mr. Jefferson, without hesitation replied as follows:</p> + +<p>“Mr. Madison presents his compliments to Mr. Merry. He has +communicated to the President Mr. Merry’s note of this morning, and +has the honor to remark to him that the President’s invitation, being +in the style used by him in like cases, had no reference to the points +of form which will deprive him of the pleasure of Mr. Merry’s company +at dinner on Monday next.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Madison tenders to Mr. Merry his distinguished consideration.”</p> + +<p>The friction arising out of this and interlocking incidents was part +of the unfortunate train of events which later led up to the war of +1812.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> It is generally conceded that Theodosia Burr Alston must +have been acquainted with her father’s most intimate ambitions, and +with at least part of the questionable plans by which he purposed to +further them. Her blind and unswerving loyalty to him, passing all +ordinary filial affection, was a predominant trait of her singular and +by no means weak or hesitant character, in which masculine resolution +blended so strangely with womanly reserve and sweetness.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> Mr. Merry did so and reported the entire proposal made by +Burr. The proposition was that the latter should “lend his assistance +to his majesty’s government in any manner in which they may think fit +to employ him, particularly in endeavoring to effect a separation of +the Western part of the United States from that which lies between the +mountains in its whole extent.”</p> + +<p>But though deeply interested in the conspiracy to separate the Western +country, Mr. Merry was not too confiding, for in his message to Mr. +Pitt he added the following confidence, showing his own estimate of +Burr:</p> + +<p>“I have only to add that if strict confidence could be placed in him, +he certainly possesses, perhaps in a much greater degree than any +other individual in this country, all the talents, energy, +intrepidity, and firmness which it requires for such an enterprise.”</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> The original journals of these two astonishing young +men—one of them just thirty years old, the other thirty-four—should +rank among the epic literature of the world. Battered about, +scattered, separated, lost, hawked from hand to hand, handed down as +unvalued heritages, “edited” first by this and then by that little +man, sometimes to the extent of actual mutilation or alteration of +their text—the journals of Meriwether Lewis and William Clark hold +their ineffacable clarity in spite of all. Their most curious quality +is the strange blending of two large souls which they show. It was +only by studying closely the individual differences of handwriting, +style, and spelling, that it could be determined what was the work of +Lewis, which that done by Clark.</p> + +<p>And what a labor! After long days of toil and danger, under unvarying +hardships, in conditions of extremest discomfort and inconvenience for +such work, the two young leaders set down with unflagging faithfulness +countless thousands of details, all in such fashion as showed the +keenest and most exact powers of observation. Botanists, naturalists, +geographers, map-makers, builders, engineers, hunters, journalists, +they brought back in their notebooks a mass of information never +equaled by the records of any other party of explorers.</p> + +<p>We cannot overestimate the sum of labor which all this meant, day +after day, month after month; nor should we underestimate the +qualities of mind and education demanded of them, nor the varied +experience of life in primitive surroundings which needed to be part +of their requisite equipment. It was indeed as if the two friends were +fitted by the plan of Providence for this great enterprise which they +concluded in such simple, unpretending, yet minutely thorough fashion. +Neither thought himself a hero, therefore each was one. The largest +glory to be accorded them is that they found their ambition and their +content in the day’s work well done.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> Cam-e-ah-wit was the name of Sacajawea’s brother, the +Shoshone chief. The country where Lewis met him is remote from any +large city today. Pass through the Gate of the Mountains, not far from +Helena, Montana, and ascend the upper valley of the Missouri, as it +sweeps west of what is now the Yellowstone Park, and one may follow +with a certain degree of comfort the trail of the early explorers. If +one should then follow the Jefferson Fork of the great river up to its +last narrowing, one would reach the country of Cam-e-ah-wit. Here is +the crest of the Continental Divide, where it sweeps up from the +south, after walling in, as if in a vast cup, the three main sources +of the great river. Much of that valley country is in fertile farms +today. Lewis and Clark passed within twelve miles of Alder Gulch, +which wrote roaring history in the early sixties—the wild placer days +of gold-mining in Montana.</p> + +<p>As for Sacajawea, she has a monument—a very poor and inadequate +one—in the city of Portland, Oregon. The crest of the Great Divide, +where she met her brother, would have been a better place. It was +here, in effect, that she ended that extraordinary guidance—some call +it nothing less than providential—which brought the white men through +in safety.</p> + +<p>Trace this Indian girl’s birth and childhood, here among the +Shoshones, who had fled to the mountains to escape the guns of the +Blackfeet. Recall her capture here by the Minnetarees from the Dakota +country. Picture her long journey thence to the east, on foot, by +horse, in bull-hide canoes, many hundreds of miles, to the Mandan +villages. It is something of a journey, even now. Reverse that +journey, go against the swift current of the waters, beyond the Great +Falls, past Helena, west of the Yellowstone Park, and up to the +Continental Divide, where she met her brother. You will find that that +is still more of a journey, even today, with roads, and towns, and +maps to guide you. Meriwether Lewis could not have made it without +her.</p> + +<p>While he was studying the courses of the stars, at Philadelphia, +preparing to lead his expedition, Sacajawea was learning the story of +nature also; and she was waiting to guide the white men when they +reached the Mandan villages. Who guided her in such unbelievably +strange fashion? The Indians sometimes made long journeys, their war +parties traveled far, and their captives also; but in all the history +of the tribes there is no record of a journey made by any Indian woman +equal to that of Sacajawea. Why did she make it? What hand pointed out +the way for her?</p> + +<p>A statue to her? She should have a thousand memorials along the old +trail! Her name should be known familiarly by every school child in +America!</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> The import of the visit of Governor Lewis and Mrs. Alston +to the court-room during the Burr trial is better conveyed if there be +held in mind the personality of that eccentric and extraordinary man, +so prominent in the history of America and the traditions of +Virginia—John Randolph of Roanoke. Irascible, high-voiced, +high-headed, truculent, insolent, vitriolic—yet gallant, courteous, +kind, just, and fair; the enemy and the friend in turn of almost every +public man of his day; truckling to none, defiant of all, sure to do +what could not be predicted of any other man—it was always certain +that John Randolph of Roanoke would do what he liked, and do what—for +that present time—he fancied to be just.</p> + +<p>Now the ardent adherent, again the bitter caluminator of Jefferson, it +would be held probable that John Randolph of Roanoke would do what he +fancied Thomas Jefferson had not asked him to do, or had asked him not +to do. But the shrewd old man at Washington spoke advisedly when he +said that John Randolph of Roanoke would try the Burr case in the +jury-room, and himself preside as judge, counsel, and jury all in +one!</p></div> + +<hr class="large" /> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Transcriber’s Note:</span></h3> + +<p>Minor changes have been made to correct obvious typesetters’ errors; +otherwise, every effort has been made to remain true to the author’s +words and intent.</p> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30298 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/30298-h/images/i003.jpg b/30298-h/images/i003.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..966bed2 --- /dev/null +++ b/30298-h/images/i003.jpg diff --git a/30298-h/images/i053.jpg b/30298-h/images/i053.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3d66559 --- /dev/null +++ b/30298-h/images/i053.jpg diff --git a/30298-h/images/i167.jpg b/30298-h/images/i167.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b2cd420 --- /dev/null +++ b/30298-h/images/i167.jpg diff --git a/30298-h/images/i263.jpg b/30298-h/images/i263.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d4c898e --- /dev/null +++ b/30298-h/images/i263.jpg diff --git a/30298-h/images/ititle.jpg b/30298-h/images/ititle.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9e6e072 --- /dev/null +++ b/30298-h/images/ititle.jpg |
