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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30298 ***
+
+ THE
+
+ MAGNIFICENT
+
+ ADVENTURE
+
+ _Being the Story of the World's
+ Greatest Exploration and the
+ Romance of a Very Gallant
+ Gentleman._
+
+ A NOVEL
+
+ BY
+ EMERSON HOUGH
+
+ AUTHOR OF
+
+ THE COVERED WAGON,
+ NORTH OF 36, ETC.
+
+ ILLUSTRATED BY
+ ARTHUR I. KELLER
+
+ NEW YORK
+ GROSSET & DUNLAP
+ PUBLISHERS
+
+ Made in the United States of America
+
+
+
+
+ COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY
+ EMERSON HOUGH
+
+ COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY THE FRANK A. MUNSEY COMPANY
+
+ Printed in the United States of America
+
+
+
+
+ [Illustration: "'Him Ro'shones,' replied the girl"
+ [PAGE 219]]
+
+
+
+
+ TO
+ ROBERT H. DAVIS
+ GOOD FRIEND
+ INVALUABLE COLLABORATOR
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+ PART I
+
+ CHAPTER                                                   PAGE
+
+      I. MOTHER AND SON                                      3
+
+     II. MERIWETHER AND THEODOSIA                           15
+
+    III. MR. BURR AND MR. MERRY                             30
+
+     IV. PRESIDENT AND SECRETARY                            36
+
+      V. THE PELL-MELL AND SOME CONSEQUENCES                47
+
+     VI. THE GREAT CONSPIRACY                               71
+
+    VII. COLONEL BURR AND HIS DAUGHTER                      86
+
+   VIII. THE PARTING                                        94
+
+     IX. MR. THOMAS JEFFERSON                              105
+
+      X. THE THRESHOLD OF THE WEST                         117
+
+     XI. THE TAMING OF PATRICK GASS                        128
+
+    XII. CAPTAIN WILLIAM CLARK                             137
+
+   XIII. UNDER THREE FLAGS                                 143
+
+    XIV. THE RENT IN THE ARMOR                             153
+
+ PART II
+
+      I. UNDER ONE FLAG                                    167
+
+     II. THE MYSTERIOUS LETTER                             182
+
+    III. THE DAY'S WORK                                    191
+
+     IV. THE CROSSROADS OF THE WEST                        199
+
+      V. THE APPEAL                                        208
+
+     VI. WHICH WAY?                                        218
+
+    VII. THE MOUNTAINS                                     230
+
+   VIII. TRAIL'S END                                       241
+
+     IX. THE SUMMONS                                       250
+
+      X. THE ABYSS                                         256
+
+     XI. THE BEE                                           272
+
+    XII. WHAT VOICE HAD CALLED?                            280
+
+   XIII. THE NEWS                                          292
+
+    XIV. THE GUESTS OF A NATION                            300
+
+     XV. MR. JEFFERSON'S ADVICE                            308
+
+    XVI. THE QUALITY OF MERCY                              316
+
+   XVII. THE FRIENDS                                       328
+
+  XVIII. THE WILDERNESS                                    336
+
+    XIX. DOWN TO THE SEA                                   351
+
+
+
+
+ LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+ "'Him Ro'shones,' replied the girl"            _Frontispiece_
+
+                                                    FACING PAGE
+
+ "'Mistah Thomas Jeffahson!' was his sole announcement"     50
+
+ "'Oh, Theo, what have I done?'"                           162
+
+ "Her face indeed!"                                        252
+
+
+
+
+ THE
+ MAGNIFICENT ADVENTURE
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+MOTHER AND SON
+
+
+A 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 _outré_
+among a people so often called to the chase or to war.
+
+His tunic was of dressed deer hide, his well-fitting leggings also of
+that material. His feet were covered 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+He was right. The strong figure in the chair did not start away. No
+exclamation came from the straight mouth of the face now turned
+toward him. Evidently the nerves of these two were not of the sort
+readily stampeded.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+"You are late, yes."
+
+"And you waited--so long?"
+
+"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.
+
+"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 back
+in time, because you told me that you would."
+
+"And you did not fear for me, then--gone overnight in the woods?" He
+half smiled at that thought himself.
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+"I did not desert my duty, mother," said he at length.
+
+"Oh, no, you would not do that, Merne!" returned the widow.
+
+"Please, mother," said he suddenly, "I want you to call me by my full
+name--that of your people. Am I not Meriwether, too?"
+
+The hand on his forehead ceased its gentle movement, fell to its
+owner's lap. A sigh passed his mother's set lips.
+
+"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?"
+
+"I am Meriwether Lewis, mother," said he gravely, and no more.
+
+"Yes!" She spoke absently, musingly. "Yes, you always were!"
+
+"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."
+
+"I know that, my son, yes. You were born for the forest. I fear I
+shall not hold you long on this quiet farm."
+
+"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."
+
+"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?"
+
+He looked around at her rather gravely once again, unsmilingly, for he
+rarely smiled.
+
+"How do you know, mother? What do you know? Tell me--about myself!
+Then I will tell you also. We shall see how we agree as to what I am
+and what I ought to do!"
+
+"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."
+
+The youth did not move as she sat, her hands on his head. Her voice
+went on, even and steady.
+
+"You are old, Meriwether Lewis! It is time, now. You are a man. You
+_always_ 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!"
+
+He remained motionless, apparently unaffected, as his mother went on.
+
+"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. 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 _stood_, 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."
+
+She paused, but still he did not speak.
+
+"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!"
+
+"You were better named Cassandra, mother!" Yet the young man scarce
+smiled even now.
+
+"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 and that resolution, all
+these combined, must spell for you. You know how his heart was racked
+at times?"
+
+The boy nodded now.
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+"Tragedy is yours, my son," said she, slowly, "not happiness. No woman
+will ever come and lie in your arms happy and content."
+
+"Mother!"
+
+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.
+
+"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
+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!"
+
+She sighed, shivered, and looked about her, startled, as if she had
+spoken aloud in some dream.
+
+"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."
+
+"You give me no long shrift, mother?" said the youth, with a twinkle
+in his eye.
+
+"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!"
+
+There was a long silence; then the widow continued.
+
+"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."
+
+Again silence fell between them before she went on, her hand again
+resting on her son's dark hair.
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+He rose now, and, silently as he had come, passed around the end of
+the wide gallery.
+
+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 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.
+
+That was the time when the mother of Meriwether Lewis gave him to his
+fate--his fate, so closely linked with yours and mine.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+MERIWETHER AND THEODOSIA
+
+
+Soft 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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+Arcturus could not tell. He could but prance insinuatingly, his ears
+forward, his head tossed, his eye now and again turned about,
+inquiring.
+
+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.
+
+A bevy of partridges, feeding at dawn along the 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Her dark hair--cut rather squarely across her forehead 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"Can you then call it good fortune?" His own voice was low,
+suppressed.
+
+"Why not, then?"
+
+"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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"And I also."
+
+"And there was the serpent."
+
+"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?"
+
+"Captain Meriwether Lewis is singularly gloomy this morning!"
+
+"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."
+
+"For both of us?"
+
+"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?"
+
+"And you followed me? Ah!"
+
+"I suppose I did, and yet I did not. If I did I knew I was riding to
+my fate."
+
+She would have spoken--her lips half parted--but what she might have
+said none heard.
+
+He went on:
+
+"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."
+
+"You have never spoken aught else to any human soul. That I know."
+
+"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!"
+
+Her face was troubled. She looked aside as she replied in a voice low,
+but firm:
+
+"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."
+
+"I know that," he said simply.
+
+"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 did not have enemies, no matter how
+clean her life has been."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"I trust Captain Meriwether Lewis," she replied.
+
+They advanced silently, and presently came in sight of a little
+cascade above a rocky shallowing of the stream. Below this, after
+they had splashed through the ford, they saw the gray stone walls of
+Rock Creek Mill.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The sun drew gently up in the heavens, screened by the waving trees.
+The ripple of the stream was very sweet.
+
+"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."
+
+"A sinless Eden, sir."
+
+"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."
+
+"Going away--where, then, my friend?"
+
+"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!"
+
+"But you will--you will come back again?"
+
+"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!"
+
+"You would never doubt my faith in my husband."
+
+"No! Of course, you love your husband. I could not look at you a
+second time if you did not."
+
+"You are a good man, Meriwether Lewis!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"She meant, Meriwether Lewis, that you were a 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----"
+
+"And a woman may divide not love, only love of love itself?"
+
+"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."
+
+"And what then?"
+
+"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."
+
+She spoke softly, and the color of her cheek, still rising, told of
+her self-reproof.
+
+He turned suddenly at this, a wonderfully sweet smile now upon his
+face.
+
+"As long as I can?"
+
+"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."
+
+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:
+
+"I want to see you happy after a time--with some good woman at your
+side--your children by you--in 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!"
+
+He shook his head.
+
+"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."
+
+"Fie! I will not have such talk on a morning like this."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+She raised her cup and saluted laughingly.
+
+"A good journey, Meriwether Lewis," said she, "and a happy return from
+it! Cast away such melancholy--you will forget all this!"
+
+"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."
+
+"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----"
+
+"As----"
+
+"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?"
+
+"More likely six years. If there is healing for me, the wilderness
+alone must give it."
+
+"I shall be an old woman--old and sallow from the Carolina suns. You
+will have forgotten me then."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+He raised a hand.
+
+"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 be for me forever after! That thought, it
+seems to me, I could not endure."
+
+"Go, then, my savage gentleman, and let me----"
+
+"And let you never see my face again?"
+
+She rose and stood looking at him, her own eyes wet with a sudden
+moisture.
+
+"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!"
+
+"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?"
+
+He swung into his saddle, reined his horse about, turned and bowed
+formally to his late _vis-Ă -vis_, 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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+MR. BURR AND MR. MERRY
+
+
+The 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.
+
+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.
+
+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 horseman.
+His own garb and face showed not the slightest proof that he had been
+riding hard.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+The young Virginian bowed to both gentlemen.
+
+"I have persuaded his excellency the minister from Great Britain to
+ride with us on one of our Washington mornings. He has been good
+enough to say--to say--that he enjoys it!"
+
+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.
+
+"Yes," said the envoy, "to be sure I recall the young man. I met him
+in the anteroom at the President's house."
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+"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 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."
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"Say not so!" said Burr, laughing. "Better--he rides like a
+Virginian!"
+
+"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----"
+
+"You know well enough how far I agree with you," said Burr somberly.
+
+"'Tis an experiment, our republic, I am willing to say that boldly to
+you, at least. How long it may last----"
+
+"Depends on men like you," said Merry, suddenly 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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"How then, Mr. Minister?"
+
+"One for her father----"
+
+Aaron Burr bowed.
+
+"Yes, her father first, as I verily believe. What then?"
+
+"The second for her husband----"
+
+"Certainly. Mr. Alston is a rising man. He has a thousand slaves on
+his plantations--he is one of the richest of the rich South
+Carolinian planters. And in politics he has a chance--more than a
+chance. But after that?"
+
+"The third portion of so charming a woman's heart might perhaps be
+assigned to Captain Meriwether Lewis!"
+
+"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."
+
+"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.
+
+Burr did not answer, and they rode on.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+PRESIDENT AND SECRETARY
+
+
+There 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.
+
+"You-all suttinly did warm old Arcturum a li'l bit dis mawnin', Mistah
+Mehywethah!"
+
+Samson patted the neck of the spirited animal, which tossed its head
+and turned an eye to its late rider.
+
+"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.
+
+"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!"
+
+The young man answered the negro's compliment 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Good morning, Mr. Jefferson," said Meriwether Lewis, in the greeting
+which he always used.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Grandly, sir. He is a fine animal. I have never ridden a better."
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Here was a man, all said who knew him, of whose 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"Mr. Jefferson--" he began, but paused, for he could see now standing
+before him his friend, the man whom, of all in the world, he loved,
+and the man who believed in him and loved him.
+
+"Yes, my son?"
+
+"Your burden is grievous hard, and yet----"
+
+"Yes, my son?"
+
+But Meriwether Lewis could not speak further. He stood now, his jaws
+set hard, looking out of the window.
+
+The older man came and gently laid a hand upon his shoulder.
+
+"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."
+
+Lewis only turned on him an eye so full of anguish as caused the older
+man to knit his brow in deep concern.
+
+"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!"
+
+The young man did not speak.
+
+"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 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."
+
+But still Meriwether could only look into the face of his superior.
+
+"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?"
+
+"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!"
+
+The older man stood looking at him for a time in silence, as he went
+on hurriedly:
+
+"I must say good-by to you, best and noblest of men. Indeed, I have
+said good-by to--everything."
+
+"As you say, your case is hopeless?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"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?"
+
+"I asked you when I was a boy to send me, but you could not then."
+
+"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. 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!"
+
+They stood there, two men who made our great adventure for
+us--vision-seers, vision-owned, gazing each into the other's eyes.
+
+"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."
+
+The old man laid a kindly hand upon his shoulder.
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Done!" said he.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"I told them," said he, "to loose a half-dozen birds at once. See!
+See!"
+
+He unrolled from one leg of the prisoner a little cylinder of paper
+covered with tinfoil and tied firmly 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.
+
+Mr. Jefferson read, and spread out the paper that his aide might read:
+
+     General Bonaparte signed May 2--Fifteen millions--Rejoice!
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+Thomas Jefferson stretched out his right hand to meet that of
+Meriwether Lewis. Their clasp was strong and firm. The eye of each man
+blazed.
+
+"Mr. Jefferson," said Meriwether Lewis, "this is your monument!"
+
+"And yours," was the reply. "Come, then!"
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+Neither said anything further until once again they were in the
+President's little office-room; but Thomas Jefferson's eye now was
+afire.
+
+"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
+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."
+
+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.
+
+"I give you my promise, Mr. Jefferson," said Meriwether Lewis.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+THE PELL-MELL AND SOME CONSEQUENCES
+
+
+It 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----"
+
+"Yes, my son?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"I thought perhaps I should go to my rooms to change for dinner. You
+see that I am still in riding-clothes."
+
+"And what of that, my son? I am in something worse!"
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+Meriwether Lewis allowed himself a smile.
+
+"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!"
+
+An hour later Meriwether Lewis stood before his narrow mirror, well
+and handsomely clad, as was 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 been heard. The policy of
+pell-mell was not working itself out in any happy social fashion.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"We have no suite, sir. I represent the President as his aide."
+
+"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.
+
+[Illustration: "'Mistah Thomas Jeffahson!' was his sole announcement"]
+
+They turned once more to the Spanish minister, 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.
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Mistah Thomas Jeffahson!" was his sole announcement.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 toward any who were to join him there. There was no
+announcement; there was no _pas_, 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!
+
+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.
+
+Here he was met once more by the party from behind the davenport.
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+Merry turned to his wife, and from her to the wife of the Spanish
+minister.
+
+"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 to sit at table with him! He _cannot_ be the President
+of the United States!"
+
+"None the less he is, Mr. Merry!" the secretary assured him.
+
+"Good Heavens!" said the minister from Great Britain, as he passed on,
+half dazed.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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,
+entirely unconcerned with what he saw. If there was trouble, it was
+for others, not for him.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 remained unsmoothed, and then stood by them for an
+instant, intending to take his departure.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+If the pell-mell dinner was at first a thing inchoate, 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.
+
+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
+_chef de cuisine_, 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:
+
+     HuĂ®tres de Shinnecock, Saulce TempĂªte
+     Olives du Luc
+     Othon Mariné à l'Huile Vierge
+     Amandes et Cerneaux Salés
+     Pot au Feu du Roy "Henriot"
+     Croustade Mogador
+     Truite de Ruisselet, Belle Meunière
+     Pommes en Fines Herbes
+     Fricot de tendre Poulet en Coquemare, au Vieux Chanturgne
+     Tourte de Ris de Veau, Financière
+     Baron de Pré Salé aux Primeurs
+     Sorbet des Comtes de Champagne
+     Dinde Sauvage flambée devant les Sarments de Vigne,
+       flanquée d'Ortolans
+     Aspic de Foie Gras Lucullus
+     Salade des Nymphes Ă  la Lamballe
+     Asperges Chauldes enduites de Sauce
+     Lombardienne
+     Dessert et Fruits de la RĂ©union
+     Fromage de Bique
+     Café Arabe
+     Larmes de Juliette
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"There may be many things here you have not expected, your
+excellency," said Mr. Burr.
+
+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 another speak freely what he wished to hear,
+himself reticent the while.
+
+The face of the English dignitary clouded again.
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+"Give me leave, sir," continued Merry. "This republic, what is it?
+What has it done?"
+
+"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 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!"
+
+Señor Yrujo helped himself to a brimming glass of his own wine.
+
+"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!"
+
+"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?"
+
+He spoke to men heated with wine, smarting under social indignity, men
+owning a hurt personal vanity.
+
+"Our past is proof enough," said Merry proudly.
+
+Yrujo needed no more than a shrug.
+
+"Divide and conquer?" Burr went on, looking at them, and raising an
+eyebrow in query.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Divide that unknown country, the West, and how long would this
+republic endure?" said Aaron Burr.
+
+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.
+
+"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 flag all the territory which they have reached on
+their Western trading routes. I go with you that far."
+
+Merry turned upon Burr suddenly a deep and estimating eye.
+
+"I begin to see," said he, "that you are open to conviction, Mr.
+Burr."
+
+"Not open to conviction," said Aaron Burr, "but already convinced!"
+
+"What do you mean, Colonel Burr?" The Englishman bent toward him,
+frowning in intentness.
+
+"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."
+
+"Where, then, could we meet after this is over?"
+
+The minister from Great Britain surely was not beyond close and ready
+estimate of events.
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+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
+his place. The dinner had drawn toward its close.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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, 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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"More than a year ago I once more chose a messenger 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."
+
+He turned his gaze contemplatively down the long table. The gaze of
+many of his guests followed his, still wonderingly, as he went on.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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 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."
+
+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.
+
+"And now for my news," he said at length. "Here you have it!"
+
+He waved once more the little scrap of paper.
+
+"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.
+
+"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, unowned--indeed, virgin territory so far as
+definite title was concerned.
+
+"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.
+
+"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:
+
+     "General Bonaparte signed May 2--Fifteen millions--Rejoice!"
+
+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.
+
+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 table, and then at that of the silent young man whom Mr.
+Jefferson had publicly honored.
+
+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.
+
+"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!
+
+"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 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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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!
+
+"Gentlemen, I give you a toast--Captain Meriwether Lewis!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE GREAT CONSPIRACY
+
+
+The 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.
+
+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.
+
+"Do you forget your friends so soon? I must add my good wishes. It was
+splendid, what Mr. Jefferson said--and it was true!"
+
+"I wish it might be true," said the young man. "I wish I might be
+worthy of such a man."
+
+"You are worthy of us all," returned Theodosia.
+
+"People are kind to the condemned," said he sententiously.
+
+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.
+
+"My dear," said Mr. Merry to his irate spouse, "I 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."
+
+The Spanish minister made similar excuse to his own wife. Thus
+Theodosia Alston left Meriwether Lewis for the second time that day.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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.[1] I shall ask him whether
+or not there is to be any repetition of this sort of thing."
+
+[Footnote 1: 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:
+
+"Thomas Jefferson asks the favor of Mr. Merry to dine with a small
+party of friends on Monday, the 13th, at half past three."
+
+Mr. Merry, still smarting all these months, stood on his dignity and
+addressed his reply to the Secretary of State.
+
+Reviewing at some length what seemed to him important events, he
+added:
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+The Secretary of State, who seems to have been acting as social
+secretary to Mr. Jefferson, without hesitation replied as follows:
+
+"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.
+
+"Mr. Madison tenders to Mr. Merry his distinguished consideration."
+
+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.]
+
+"So much for the rule of the plain people!" said Burr, as he laid the
+tips of his fingers together contemplatively.
+
+"Yet, Colonel Burr, you are Vice-President under this administration!"
+broke out Merry.
+
+"One must use agencies and opportunities as they 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."
+
+"Sir," said the British minister, "you have been a student of
+affairs."
+
+"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--_but not under the flag of this republic!_"
+
+Silence greeted his remark. The others sat for a moment, merely
+gazing at him, half stunned, remembering only that he was Jefferson's
+colleague, Vice-President of the United States.
+
+"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."
+
+"You will explain more fully, Colonel Burr?" Mr. Merry was intent now
+on all that he heard.
+
+"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 the Appalachians, or to drive it once more into the sea."
+
+They were silent alike before the enormousness and the enormity of
+this. Reading their thoughts, Burr raised his hand in deprecation.
+
+"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."
+
+"What you say, Mr. Burr," began Merry gravely, "assuredly has the
+merit of audacity. And I see that you have given it thought."
+
+"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?"
+
+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 it is to be said that he was there to represent the
+interests of his own government alone.
+
+In the same even tones, Burr resumed his astonishing statements.
+
+"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."
+
+"So, then," began Yrujo, "the financing is somewhat forward! But fifty
+thousand is only a drop."
+
+"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."
+
+"Your funds," said Mr. Merry, "seem to me inadequate for the demands
+which will be made upon them. You said fifty thousand?"
+
+Burr nodded.
+
+"I pledge you as much more--on one condition that I shall name."
+
+Burr turned from Mr. Merry to Señor Yrujo. The latter nodded.
+
+"I undertake to contribute the same amount," said the envoy of Spain,
+"but with no condition attached."
+
+The color deepened in the cheek of the great conspirator. His eye
+glittered a trifle more brilliantly.
+
+"You named a certain condition, sir," he said to Merry.
+
+"Yes, one entirely obvious."
+
+"What is it, then, your excellency?" Burr inquired.
+
+"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!"
+
+"Yes, your excellency," said Burr, "I agree with you, but----"
+
+"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."
+
+Burr nodded, his lips compressed.
+
+"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!"
+
+"All that your excellency has said tallies entirely with our own
+beliefs," rejoined Burr. "But what then? What is the condition?"
+
+"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!"
+
+Burr sat in silence for a time.
+
+"You open up a singular train of thought for me, your excellency,"
+said he at length. "He does belong with us, that young Virginian!"
+
+"You know him, then?" inquired the British minister. "That is to say,
+you know him well?"
+
+"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."
+
+"How, then?" inquired Merry.
+
+"The way of a woman with a man may always be the answer in matters of
+that sort!" said Aaron Burr.
+
+The three sat and looked each at the other for some time without
+comment.
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"Then even the unusual weapon you suggest might not avail!" Mr.
+Merry's smile was not altogether pleasant.
+
+"Women would listen to him readily, I think," remarked Yrujo.
+
+"Gallant in his way, yes," said Burr.
+
+"Then what do you mean by saying something about the way of a woman
+with a man?"
+
+"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."
+
+"You reason well," said Merry. "But while men are mortal, yonder, if I
+mistake not, is a gentleman."
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+"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 chivalry or his sense of justice. His reasons must be
+honest to him. They must be honest to her alike."
+
+Burr added this last virtuously, and Mr. Merry bowed deeply in return.
+
+"This is not only honorable of you, Colonel Burr, but logical."
+
+"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?"
+
+"We have left out of our accounting one factor," said Burr after a
+time.
+
+"What, then?"
+
+"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.[2] Now, 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!'"
+
+[Footnote 2: 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.]
+
+"When could we learn?" demanded the British minister.
+
+"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."
+
+"But he starts at dawn!" smiled Minister Merry.
+
+"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?"
+
+The British minister was businesslike and definite.
+
+"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.[3] 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."
+
+[Footnote 3: 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."
+
+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:
+
+"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."]
+
+The dark eye of Aaron Burr flashed.
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+"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."
+
+The others rose. The hour was past midnight. The secret conference had
+been a long one.
+
+"He starts tomorrow--is that sure?" asked Merry.
+
+"As the clock," rejoined Burr. "She must see him before the breakfast
+hour."
+
+"My compliments, Colonel Burr. Good night!"
+
+"Good night, sir," added Yrujo. "It has been a strange day."
+
+"Secrecy, gentlemen, secrecy! I hope soon to have more news for you,
+and good news, too. _Au revoir!_"
+
+Burr himself accompanied them to the door.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+COLONEL BURR AND HIS DAUGHTER
+
+
+One 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.
+
+"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?"
+
+He still paced the floor until he heard a light _frou-frou_ 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.
+
+"What is it, father--are you ill?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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 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?
+
+"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!"
+
+He caught Theodosia's look of surprise, her start, the swift flush on
+her cheek--and laughed lightly.
+
+"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."
+
+"It seems that you value him more now than once you did."
+
+"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 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."
+
+"What woman, father?"
+
+A flush came to her pale cheek. Her father turned to her directly, his
+own piercing gaze aflame.
+
+"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!"
+
+She swiftly turned her head aside, not answering.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Do you believe that of me--and you my father?"
+
+"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?"
+
+"There would be prospects for him?"
+
+"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?"
+
+Troubled, again she turned her gaze aside.
+
+"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?"
+
+Still her downcast eye gave him no reply.
+
+"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.
+
+"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. 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.
+
+"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, _and for the sake of that young man yonder_, you should not
+go to him immediately and carry my message."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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 have chosen
+the only one in all the world who might undertake this errand with the
+slightest prospect of success."
+
+"What can I do, father?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"Treachery? No, it is statesmanship, it is service to mankind!"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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! I have not slept tonight," he added, passing a hand across
+his forehead.
+
+"There will be no more sleep for me tonight," was her reply.
+
+"You will see him in the morning?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+THE PARTING
+
+
+There 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.
+
+"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."
+
+The President tapped a long forefinger on the map.
+
+"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 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."
+
+Meriwether Lewis listened in silence. Mr. Jefferson turned to another
+branch of his theme.
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+Indeed, the sun was rising over Washington, the mists of morning were
+reeking along the banks of the Potomac.
+
+"I can start in half an hour," replied Meriwether Lewis.
+
+"Are your men ready, your supplies gathered together?"
+
+"The rendezvous is at Harper's Ferry, up the river. The wagons with
+the supplies are ready there. I will 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."
+
+"Spoken like a soldier! It is in your hands. Go then!"
+
+There was one look, one handclasp. The two men parted; nor did they
+meet again for years.
+
+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.
+
+The sun still was young when Meriwether Lewis at length descended the
+steps of the Executive Mansion.
+
+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.
+
+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" 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.
+
+Such was the leader of one of the great expeditions of the world.
+
+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:
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     I will write again on my arrival at Pittsburgh. Adieu, and
+     believe me your affectionate son.
+
+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 steadily, his head
+high, his eye on ahead--a splendid figure of a man.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Mrs. Alston!" he exclaimed, as the carriage came up. "Why are you
+here? Is there any news?"
+
+"Yes, else I could not have come."
+
+"But why have you come? Tell me!"
+
+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.
+
+"Pardon me," said he, and his voice was cold; "I thought I had cut all
+ties."
+
+"Knit them again for my sake, then, Meriwether Lewis! I have brought
+you a summons to return."
+
+"A summons? From whom?"
+
+"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. This expedition can only fail! I implore you not to go upon
+it! Do not let your man's pride drive you!"
+
+She was excited, half sobbing.
+
+"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----"
+
+"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."
+
+"Why did you come thus, unattended? There is something you are
+concealing. Tell me!"
+
+"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."
+
+"You speak well! Go on."
+
+"England is with us, and Spain--they back my father's plans."
+
+He turned now and raised a hand.
+
+"Plans? What plans? I must warn you, I am pledged to my own country's
+service."
+
+"Is not my father also? He is one of the highest officers in the
+government of this country."
+
+"You may tell me more or not, as you like."
+
+"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."
+
+He sat motionless, looking straight ahead, as she went on.
+
+"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."
+
+The color was full in her face. He turned toward her suddenly, his eye
+clouded.
+
+"It is an extraordinary matter in every way which you bring for me,"
+he said slowly; "extraordinary that 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?"
+
+"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----"
+
+"Regard! What do you mean?"
+
+"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."
+
+She was all confusion now. He seemed pitiless.
+
+"I have listened long enough to have my curiosity aroused. I shall
+have somewhat to ponder--on the trail to the West."
+
+"Then you mean that you will go on?"
+
+"Yes!"
+
+"You do not understand----"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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 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!"
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+This time he did not turn back again.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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.
+
+Burr met her at the door. His keen eye read the answer at once.
+
+"You have failed!" said he.
+
+She raised her dark eyes to his, herself silent, mournful.
+
+"What did he say?" demanded Burr.
+
+"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!"
+
+"You failed," said Burr, "because you did not use the right argument
+with him. The next time _you must not fail_. You must use better
+arguments!"
+
+Theodosia stood motionless for an instant, looking at her father, then
+passed back into the house.
+
+"Listen, my daughter," said Burr at length, in his eye a light that
+she never had known before. "You _must_ 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 _must_ 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. _Ask him to come back to Theodosia
+Burr and happiness_--do you understand?"
+
+"Sir," said his daughter, "I think--I think I do not understand!"
+
+He seemed not to hear her--or to toss her answer aside.
+
+"You must try again," said he, "and with the right weapons--the old
+ones, my dear--the old weapons of a woman!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+MR. THOMAS JEFFERSON
+
+
+Not 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.
+
+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.
+
+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 black servants still
+remaining at his country house in Virginia.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+     Provisions                       $4,059.98
+     Wines                             1,296.63
+     Groceries                         1,624.76
+     Fuel                                553.68
+     Secretary                           600.00
+     Servants                          2,014.89
+     Miscellaneous                       433.30
+     Stable                              399.06
+     Dress                               246.05
+     Charities                         1,585.60
+     Pres. House                         226.59
+     Books                               497.41
+     Household expenses                  393.00
+     Monticello--plantation            2,226.45
+          "    --family                1,028.79
+     Loans                               274.00
+     Debts                               529.61
+     Asquisitions--lands bought        2,156.86
+          "      --buildings           3,567.92
+          "      --carriages             363.75
+          "      --furniture             664.10
+
+     Total                           $24,682.45
+
+Mr. Jefferson says in rather shamefaced fashion to his diary:
+
+          I ought by this statement to have cash in
+            hand                                      $183.70
+          But I actually have in hand                  293.00
+          So that the errors of this statement amt
+            to                                         109.20
+
+     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.
+
+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 and marvelously
+varied activities he finds time to leave for us such records as these:
+
+     Mr. Remsen tells me that six cord of hickory last a
+     fireplace well the winter.
+
+     Myrtle candles of last year out.
+
+     Pd Farren an impudent surcharge for Venetn blinds, 2.66.
+
+     Borrowed of Mr. Maddison order on bank for 150d.
+
+     Enclosed to D. Rittenhouse, Lieper's note of 238.57d, out of
+     which he is to pay for equatorial instrument for me.
+
+     Hitzeimer says that a horse well fed with grain requires 100
+     lb. of hay, and without grain 130 lb.
+
+     T. N. Randolph has had 9 galls. whisky for his harvest.
+
+     My first pipe of Termo is out--begun soon after I came home
+     to live from Philadelphia.
+
+     Agreed with Robt. Chuning to serve me as overseer at
+     Monticello for £25 and 600 lb. pork. He is to come Dec. 1.
+
+     Agreed with ---- Bohlen to give 300 _livres tournois_ for my
+     bust made by Ceracchi, if he shall agree to take that sum.
+
+     My daughter Maria married this day.
+
+     March 16--The first shad at this market today.
+
+     March 28--The weeping willow shows the green leaf.
+
+     April 9--Asparagus come to table.
+
+     April 10--Apricots blossom.
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+As to the code of official etiquette which we have seen to exist in
+Washington, the President himself was responsible for it, for we
+have, written out in his own delicate hand, the following explicit
+instructions:
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+And so on, through reams and reams of a strange man's life records.
+
+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:
+
+     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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+     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 Mount Hood is seen
+     about twenty leagues distant, which is probably a dependency
+     of the Stony Mountains. Accept my affectionate salutations.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+"Who is she, Henry?" inquired the President of the United States
+mildly. "I am somewhat busy today."
+
+"'Tain't no diff'rence, she say--she sho'ly want see Mistah
+Jeffahson."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"My dear," said he, "you will pardon our confusion here, I am sure.
+There are many matters----"
+
+"I know it is an intrusion, Mr. Jefferson," began 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.
+
+"I was not so fortunate as to find time for sleep last night." He
+smiled again with humorous, half twisted mouth.
+
+"Nor was I."
+
+"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?"
+
+"How did you know?" she exclaimed, startled.
+
+"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."
+
+She was looking straight into his face, her eyes mournful.
+
+"I was glad to send him away, sorely as I miss him. But then, you
+said, you come to me about him?"
+
+"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, 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?"
+
+"You need not speak, my dear, I know."
+
+"I shall be faithful to my husband, Mr. Jefferson."
+
+The old man nodded.
+
+"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?"
+
+In turn she laid a small hand upon the President's arm.
+
+"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."
+
+"What is it, Theodosia?" he said quietly. "I do not grasp all this."
+
+"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----"
+
+"Good, my learned counsel--say on!"
+
+"Forgive my weak wit--I only try to say this as I heard it, well and
+plainly."
+
+"As well as any man, my dear! Go on."
+
+"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."
+
+"And perhaps by certain of my own party not Federalists--by Colonel
+Aaron Burr, for instance!" Thomas Jefferson smiled grimly.
+
+"Yes!" She spoke firmly and with courage.
+
+"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."
+
+"I saw him this very morning--I took my reputation in my hands--I
+followed him--I urged him, I implored him to stop!"
+
+"Yes? And did he?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+She did not reply. After a time the President went on gently:
+
+"My dear, would you wish him to come back--would 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?"
+
+She drew up proudly.
+
+"What benefit, indeed, to me? Do you think I would ask this for
+myself? No, it was for _him_--it was for _his_ welfare only that I
+dared to come to you. And you will not hear new evidence?"
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"You would not hear what was the actual cause of my wish for him----"
+
+"No, my dear! We have made our plans."
+
+"There are other plans afoot these days, Mr. Jefferson."
+
+"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 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!"
+
+She rose now, calm before the imperious quality of his nature, so
+unlike his former gentleness.
+
+"You refuse, then, Mr. Jefferson? You will not reopen this case?"
+
+"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."
+
+Suddenly he saw the tears in her eyes. At once he was back again, the
+courteous gentleman.
+
+"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."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THE THRESHOLD OF THE WEST
+
+
+Meriwether 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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+     DEAR MERNE:
+
+     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 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.
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     With all affec'n, I remain,
+
+               Your friend,
+
+                    WM. CLARK.
+
+     P. S.--God alone knows how mutch this all may mean to You
+     and me, Merne--WILL.
+
+Clark, then, was to meet him at the Falls of the Ohio, and he, too,
+counseled haste. Lewis drove his 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.
+
+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.
+
+"What is it, my son?" said he. "Did you wish to see me?"
+
+The boy advanced, smiling.
+
+"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."
+
+"You are right--I remember you perfectly. So you are grown into a
+strapping young man, I see!"
+
+The boy twirled his cap in his hands.
+
+"I want to go along with you, Captain," said he shyly.
+
+"What? You would go with me--do you know what is our journey?"
+
+"No. I only hear that you are going up the Missouri, beyond St. Louis,
+into new country. They say there are buffalo there, and Indians. 'Tis
+too quiet here for me--I want to see the world with you."
+
+The young leader, after his fashion, stood silently regarding the
+other for a time. An instant served him.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"What, is it, George?" he asked at length, looking up.
+
+"Someone waiting to see you, sir--they are in the parlor. They sent
+me----"
+
+"They? Who are they?"
+
+"I don't know, sir. She asked me to come for you."
+
+"She. Who is she?"
+
+"I don't know, sir. She spoke to her father. They are in the room just
+across the hall, sir."
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Why are you here?" he asked at length.
+
+"My father and I are on a journey down the river to visit Mr.
+Blennerhasset on his island. You know his castle there?"
+
+"Why is it that you always come to torment me the more? Another day
+and I should have been gone!"
+
+"Torment you, sir?"
+
+"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 each time I must leave you. Why did you not wait one
+day?"
+
+She made no reply. He fought for his self-control.
+
+"Mr. Jefferson, how is he?" he demanded at length. "You left him
+well?"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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!"
+
+"You shall not leave my face behind you, Captain Lewis!" she said
+suddenly.
+
+"What do you mean, Theodosia? What is it?"
+
+"You shall see me every night under the stars, Meriwether Lewis. I
+will not let you go. I will not relinquish you!"
+
+He turned swiftly toward her, but paused as if caught back by some
+mighty hand.
+
+"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?"
+
+"No! To the contrary, shall I allow you to hasten 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!"
+
+"Can you fancy what all this means to me?" he broke out hoarsely.
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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----"
+
+"There are some words that burn deep," he said slowly. "I know that I
+was not made for happiness."
+
+"Does a woman's wish mean nothing to you? Have I no appeal for you?"
+
+Something like a sob was torn from his bosom.
+
+"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?"
+
+She stood slightly swaying, silent.
+
+"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!"
+
+He saw her movement as she turned, heard her sigh.
+
+"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!"
+
+"He told you what?"
+
+"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. 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!"
+
+He heard the soft rustle of her gown, her light footfall as she
+passed; and once more he was alone.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE TAMING OF PATRICK GASS
+
+
+"Shannon, go get the men!"
+
+It was midnight. For more than an hour Meriwether Lewis had sat, his
+head drooped, in silence.
+
+"We are going to start?" Shannon's face lightened eagerly. "We'll be
+off at sunup?"
+
+"Before that. Get the men--we'll start now! I'll meet you at the
+wharf."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"All's aboard, sir," said he. "Shall we cast off?"
+
+Without a word Lewis nodded and made his way to his place in the boat.
+In the darkness, without a shout or a cheer to mark its passing, the
+expedition was launched on its long journey.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Hello, there!" called a voice through the darkness, after a time.
+"Who goes there?"
+
+The splash of a sweep had attracted the attention of someone on shore.
+The light of a camp fire showed.
+
+Every one in the boat looked at the leader, but none vouchsafed a
+reply to the hail.
+
+"Ahoy there, the boat!" insisted the same voice.
+
+"Shall I fire on yez to make yez answer a civil question? Come ashore
+wance--I can lick the best of yez in three minutes, or me name's not
+Patrick Gass!"
+
+The captain of the boat turned slowly in his seat, casting a glance
+over his silent crew.
+
+"Set in!" said he, sharply and shortly.
+
+Without a word they obeyed, and with oar and steering-sweep the great
+craft slowly swung inshore.
+
+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.
+
+These fellows lay idly looking at Lewis as he entered the light, not
+troubling to accost him.
+
+"Who hailed us?" demanded the latter shortly.
+
+"Begorrah, 'twas me," said a short, strongly built man, stepping
+forward from the other side of the fire.
+
+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.
+
+"'Twas me hailed yez, and what of it?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Yez can learn, if ye're so anxious," replied the 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!"
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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
+well-oiled rifle-locks offered the most serious of warnings.
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+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 _rencontre_--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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"I am not shaking hands with ruffians who insult travelers," Captain
+Lewis sternly rejoined; but he saw the crestfallen look which swept
+over the strong face of the other. "There, man," said he, "since you
+seem to mean well!"
+
+He shook hands with his opponent, who, stung by the rebuke, now began
+to sniffle.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Gass, Patrick Gass, you said?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"You say the Tenth?" said he briefly. "You have been with the colors?
+Look here, my man, do you want to serve?"
+
+"I am going right back to Kaskasky for it, sor."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"I'll take care of that. I have full authority to recruit among
+enlisted men."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+In this curious fashion Patrick Gass of the army--later 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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+CAPTAIN WILLIAM CLARK
+
+
+"Will!"
+
+"Merne!"
+
+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?
+
+"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."
+
+"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, 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."
+
+"The water is low," complained Lewis, "and a thousand things have
+delayed us. Are you ready to start?"
+
+"In ten minutes--in five minutes. I will have my boy York go up and
+get my rifle and my bags."
+
+"Your brother, General Clark, how is he?"
+
+William Clark shrugged with a smile which had half as much sorrow as
+mirth in it.
+
+"The truth is, Merne, the general's heart is broken. He thinks that
+his country has forgotten him."
+
+"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!"
+
+"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!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"Doubtful," said Clark. "The Spanish of the valley 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."
+
+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.
+
+"What sort of men have you in your party, Merne?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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 York along--a negro is always
+good-natured under hardship, and a laugh now and then will not hurt
+any of us."
+
+Lewis nodded assent.
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+As he spoke, so strange a look passed over his friend's face that
+William Clark swiftly put out a hand.
+
+"What is it, Merne? Pardon me! Did she--not wait?"
+
+His companion looked at him gravely.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+William Clark meant well--his friend knew that; so now he smiled, or
+tried to smile.
+
+"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!"
+
+"You are a boy, Will," said Meriwether Lewis, actually smiling now,
+"and I am glad you are and always 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!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+UNDER THREE FLAGS
+
+
+The 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.
+
+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.
+
+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. The flag of Great Britain had withdrawn itself to the North.
+The flag of our republic had not yet advanced.
+
+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?
+
+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!
+
+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 till recently exacted respect chiefly through the
+stark deadliness of its fighting and marching men.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Laussat was the last French commandant in the valley. De Lassus, the
+Spaniard, holding onto his dignity 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!
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+De Lassus choked with emotion as he handed over the keys and the
+archives which so long had been under his charge.
+
+"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!"
+
+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!
+
+"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, Merne?" he added. "I've not been across there for two
+weeks."
+
+"News enough," said Meriwether Lewis gravely. "I just have word of the
+arrival in town of none other than Colonel Aaron Burr."
+
+"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?"
+
+"No. I wish he were alone. Will, she is with him--his daughter, Mrs.
+Alston!"
+
+"Well, what of that? Oh, I know--I know, but why should you meet?"
+
+"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!"
+
+"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 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!"
+
+"You preach very well, Will. Of course, I know you don't practise what
+you preach--who does?"
+
+"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."
+
+Lewis did not answer his friend's jesting argument.
+
+"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 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."
+
+"His deeds! Yes, you are right, they do, indeed, tell the tale. Let us
+hope the reckoning will stand clean at last."
+
+"Merne, you are a soldier, not a preacher."
+
+"Will, you are neither--you are only a boy!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+THE RENT IN THE ARMOR
+
+
+Aaron 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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 apparel now.
+These folk of St. Louis must see us at our best, my dear, our very
+best. Besides----"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"My daughter, Mrs. Alston, will join us presently," he said. "So you
+are ready, Captain Lewis?"
+
+"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!"
+
+"_All bridges burned?_"
+
+The deep voice of Aaron Burr almost trembled. His keen eye searched
+the face of the young man before him.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"I was just going, yes," stammered Meriwether Lewis. "I had hoped----"
+But what he had hoped he did not say.
+
+"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.
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Theodosia sighed.
+
+"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!"
+
+"Yes, I would have preferred that."
+
+"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!"
+
+"I thank you, madam!"
+
+"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."
+
+"Just what do you mean?"
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+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 her, only to be
+done with his last errands, and away on that trail which so long had
+beckoned to him.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+"Coming back?" he began, and stopped short once more. They were now
+both within the shelter of the old building.
+
+"Yes, Merne!" she broke out suddenly. "When are you coming back to me,
+Merne?"
+
+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.
+
+"Coming back to _you_? And you call me by that name? Only my mother,
+Mr. Jefferson and Will Clark ever did so."
+
+"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!"
+
+He made no reply.
+
+"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 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?"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+[Illustration: "'Oh, Theo, what have I done?'"]
+
+"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 know not what
+it was. I heard it. I felt it. Forgive me, it was not I myself! Oh,
+Theo, what have I done?"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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!
+
+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:
+
+"Theo! Theo! What have I done? What have I done?"
+
+
+
+
+PART II
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+UNDER ONE FLAG
+
+
+What 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?
+
+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?
+
+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!
+
+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, 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.
+
+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.
+
+Continually the boats, heavily laden as they were, ran upon shifting
+bars of sand, or made long détours to avoid some _chevaux de frise_ 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.
+
+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.
+
+When sail and oar and setting-pole proved unavailing, 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+A month passed, and more. The hunters exulted that game was so easy to
+get, for they must depend 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+They came riding down in bands, whooping and shouting, painted and
+half naked, well armed--splendid savages, fearing no man, proud,
+capricious, blood-thirsty. 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.
+
+"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."
+
+"You are chiefs!" said Dorion. "Have I not seen it? I will tell them
+so."
+
+But Dorion had been gone but a short time when he came hurrying back
+from the Indian village.
+
+"The runners say plenty buffalo close by," he reported. "The chief,
+she'll call the people to hunt the buffalo."
+
+William Clark turned to his companion.
+
+"You hear that, Merne?" said he. "Why should we not go also?"
+
+"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!"
+
+"Yes, and without saddles, too! Very well, I learned that of my
+brother, who learned it of the Indians 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."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"Strip, Will," said Meriwether Lewis. "If we ride as savages, it must
+be in full keeping."
+
+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 whose skins were white, whose hair was not black, but
+some strange new color--one whose hair was red.
+
+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!
+
+"Now, York, you rascal," commanded William Clark, "do as I tell you!"
+
+"Yessah, massa Captain, I suttinly will!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"Yassah, massa Captain!"
+
+York grinned his enjoyment; and when he had duly executed the
+maneuver, the Sioux greeted the white men with much acclamation.
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"Now we shall serve!" said Lewis an instant later; for they brought
+out two handsome horses, one coal-black, the other piebald, both
+mettlesome and high-strung.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Dorion, also stripped to the waist, a kerchief bound about his head,
+carrying a short carbine against his thigh, now rode alongside.
+
+"He say Weucha show you how Sioux can ride," he interpreted.
+
+"Tell him it is good, Dorion," rejoined Lewis. "We will show him also
+that we can ride!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Lewis found his horse, the black runner that Weucha 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 _zut_. 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"Plenty--you will find them back there."
+
+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.
+
+In time the messenger came back carrying a sheaf of arrows. Grinning,
+he held up the fingers of two hands.
+
+"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!"
+
+The two leaders hastened to their own encampment 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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, in dignified
+silence, not looking about them, they sat, their long locks spread out
+on their shoulders.
+
+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.
+
+At length Meriwether Lewis, holding in his hand the great peace pipe
+that he had brought, arose.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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 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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"Tomorrow our people will go a little way with you 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.
+
+"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!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE MYSTERIOUS LETTER
+
+
+Late 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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+His friend turned to him seriously.
+
+"You are right, Will," said he. "I owe duty to many besides myself."
+
+"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!"
+
+His companion made no reply. They marched on to their own part of the
+encampment, and seated themselves at the little fire which had been
+left burning for them.[4]
+
+[Footnote 4: 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.]
+
+William Clark went on with his reproving.
+
+"Tell me, Merne, what are you thinking of? It is not that woman?"
+
+He seemed to feel the sudden shrinking of the tall figure at his side.
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+"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 _see_ 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."
+
+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 and
+crackling under his hand, and looked down.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+     TO CAPTAIN MERIWETHER LEWIS.--ON THE TRAIL IN THE WEST.
+
+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:
+
+     DEAR SIR AND FRIEND:
+
+     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, 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?
+
+     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?
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     Turn back _now_, Meriwether Lewis! Come back!
+
+The letter was not signed, and needed not to be. Meriwether Lewis sat
+staring at the paper clutched in his hand.
+
+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:
+
+     Oh, if only I had the right to lay some command on you!
+
+Was not he, who had forgotten honor, subject now to any command that
+she might give him?
+
+"Will, Will!" exclaimed Meriwether Lewis, sharply, imperatively, to
+his friend, whom he could see dimly at a little distance as he lay.
+
+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.
+
+"Who calls there? Who goes?" he cried, half awake.
+
+"It is I, Will," said Meriwether Lewis, advancing toward him.
+"Listen--tell me, Will, why did you do this?"
+
+"Why did I do what? Merne, what is wrong?"
+
+Clark was now on his feet, and Lewis held out the letter to him. He
+took it in his hand, looked at it wonderingly.
+
+"This letter----" began Meriwether Lewis. "Certainly you carried it
+for me--why did you not bring it to me long ago?"
+
+"What letter? Whose letter is it, Merne? I never saw it before. What
+is it you are saying? Are you mad?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Who sends it, Merne. What does it say?"
+
+"It is from the woman whose face I have seen at night, Will. She asks
+me to come back!"
+
+"Burn it--throw it in the fire!" said William Clark sharply. "Go back?
+What, forsake Mr. Jefferson--leave me?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"She had no right----"
+
+"Ah, but that is the cruelty of it--she _did_ have the right!"
+
+"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."
+
+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, he
+found himself on a little eminence of the bluff near by.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Lewis frowned heavily. He could not speak for a time.
+
+"Give the orders to the men to roll out, Captain Clark," said he at
+length.
+
+"Which way, Captain Lewis--upstream or down?"
+
+"The expedition will go forward, Captain Clark."
+
+"God bless you, Merne!" said the red-headed one.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THE DAY'S WORK
+
+
+"Roll out, men, roll out!"
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Myself, sir," said Ordway, "if you please."
+
+"No, 'tis meself, sor," interrupted Patrick Gass.
+
+Pryor, with hand outstretched, also claimed the honor of the difficult
+undertaking.
+
+"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----"
+
+"Yes, sir!"
+
+"Has any boat passed up the river within the last day--for instance,
+while we were away at the hunt?"
+
+"I think not, sir. Surely any one coming up the river would have
+turned in at our camp."
+
+Lewis turned to Gass, to Pryor; but both agreed that no boat could
+have gone by unnoticed.
+
+"And no man has come into the camp from below--no horseman?"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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. _En avant_, 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."
+
+"Sure, the Frenchmans, she'll lead on the line this morning,
+_Capitaine_! 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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"Ho!" said Ordway, usually silent. "Wait rather for us Yankees--we'll
+show you what old Vermont can do!"
+
+"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!"
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+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 seated
+themselves at the long sweeps of the barge, while yet others were
+manning the pirogues.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"We surely must be almost across now!" said some of the men.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"Two weeks on his foot!"
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"_Oui, oui_, the Teton!" exclaimed Drouillard. "I'll not spoke his
+language, me; but she'll be bad Sioux. _Prenez garde, Capitaine,
+prenez garde pour ces sauvages, les Sioux!_"
+
+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
+there were a hundred of them assembled--painted warriors, decked in
+all their savage finery, bold men, showing no fear of the newcomers.
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"He'll said he was Black Buffalo," replied the Frenchman. "I don't
+understand him very good."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+At that moment Lewis gave a loud order, which arrested them all. The
+Sioux turned toward the barge, to see the black mouth of the great
+swivel gun pointing at them--the gun whose thunder voice they had
+heard.
+
+"Big medicine!" called out Black Buffalo in terror, and ordered his
+men back.
+
+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.
+
+"_Croyez moi!_" ejaculated Drouillard. "These Hinjun, she'll think he
+own this country!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE CROSSROADS OF THE WEST
+
+
+The 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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,
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"We open our ears to what Big White has said," replied Lewis--speaking
+through Jussaume, the 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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"It is good," said the Mandan. "_Ahaie!_ 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."
+
+"When the grass is green," said Lewis, "I shall lead my young men
+toward the setting sun. We shall make new trails."
+
+Jussaume, McCracken, and all the others held their own council with
+the leaders of the expedition.
+
+"What are you doing here?" they demanded. "The Missouri has always
+belonged to the British traders."
+
+The face of Meriwether Lewis flushed with anger.
+
+"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."
+
+"Purchase? What purchase?" demanded McCracken.
+
+And then the face of Lewis lightened, for he knew that they had outrun
+all the news of the world!
+
+"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!"
+
+"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!"
+
+"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 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!"
+
+McCracken, irritated, turned away from the talk.
+
+"It is a fine fairy tale they tell us!" said he to his fellows.
+
+Drouillard came a moment later to his chief.
+
+"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."
+
+Lewis smiled.
+
+"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."
+
+"My faith," said Jussaume, the Frenchman, "you come a long way!
+Why you want to go more farther West? But, listen, _Monsieur
+Capitaine_--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!"
+
+"'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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"Agreed, then!" said his master, laughing lustily, for, safe in his
+own sanctuary, he had not seen these 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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 _presto_, before the winter had well
+settled down, the white explorers were housed and fortified and ready
+for what might come.
+
+The Mandans sat and watched them in wonder. Jussaume, the French
+trader, shook his head. In all his experience on the trail he had
+seen nothing savoring quite so much of preparedness and celerity.
+
+Among all the posts to the northward and eastward the word went out,
+carried by dog runners.
+
+"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!
+
+"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!
+
+"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 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.
+
+"We have seen no men like these. They are chiefs, and their medicine
+is strong!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+THE APPEAL
+
+
+"Well 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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"Yes, and a surly brute he is!"
+
+"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 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!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"By the Lord, Merne, you're a genius for getting over new country!"
+
+"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 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.
+
+"What do you mean, Merne? Surely, if I do, you will also!"
+
+"I cannot be sure."
+
+The florid face of William Clark showed a frown of displeasure.
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+Meriwether Lewis turned to his colleague with the sweet smile which
+sometimes his friends saw.
+
+"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."
+
+"Confound it, Merne, you have not been yourself since you got that
+accursed letter in the night last summer!"
+
+"It was unsettling, I don't deny."
+
+"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!"
+
+"It is taboo, Will--that one thing!"
+
+And Clark, growling anathemas on all women, stalked away to find his
+axmen.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The sounds of revelry were heard by the Mandans who came up to the
+gate.
+
+"White men make a medicine dance," they said, and knocked for
+entrance.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+He returned to his own quarters, where he had erected a little desk at
+which he sometimes worked, 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.
+
+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.
+
+     TO CAPTAIN MERIWETHER LEWIS, IN CHARGE OF THE VOLUNTEERS FOR
+     THE DISCOVERY OF THE WEST.--ON THE TRAIL.
+
+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:
+
+     SIR AND FRIEND:
+
+     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?
+
+     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?
+
+     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?
+
+     "I will always be there, Theodosia," you said, "when you are
+     in trouble!"
+
+     You said it stoutly, and I believed it, as a child.
+
+     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!
+
+     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.
+
+     _Meriwether Lewis, come back to us!_ 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.
+
+     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.
+
+     Go on, therefore, if you would ruin me, my father--your own
+     future; but will you go on if you face possible ruin _for
+     your own country_ by so doing? This I leave for you to say.
+
+     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.
+
+     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?
+
+     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!
+
+     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!
+
+Meriwether Lewis sat, his face between his hands, staring down at what
+he saw. Should he go on, or 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?
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Will!" he called to his companion.
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+Meriwether Lewis was folding up the letter. He placed it in the pocket
+of his coat with its fellow, received months ago.
+
+"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."
+
+"Listen, Merne!" replied William Clark. "There is no woman in the
+world worth the misery this one has put on you. It is a thing
+execrable, unspeakable!"
+
+His friend looked him steadily in the eyes.
+
+"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_ did was a thing execrable,
+unspeakable--I, your friend, did that!"
+
+William Clark, more genuinely troubled than ever in his life before,
+was dumb.
+
+"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."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+WHICH WAY?
+
+
+"Which 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?"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Which way, Sacajawea?" asked Meriwether Lewis. "What river is this
+which goes on to the left?"
+
+"Him Ro'shone," replied the girl. "My man call him that. No good!
+_Him_--big river"; and she pointed toward the right-hand stream.
+
+"As I thought, Will," said Lewis, nodding; and again, to the Indian
+girl: "Do you remember this place?"
+
+She nodded her head vigorously and smiled.
+
+"See!"
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"And greater, and more beautiful in every way," assented his
+companion.
+
+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.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Soon we see the mountains!" insisted Sacajawea.
+
+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.
+
+"It is the mountains!" he exclaimed. "There lie the Stonies. They do
+exist! We shall surely reach them! We have won!"
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+"The north wan, she'll be the right wan, _Capitaine_," said Cruzatte,
+himself a good voyageur.
+
+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?
+
+They found the moccasin of an Indian not far from here.
+
+"Blackfoot!" said Sacajawea, and pointed to the north, shaking her
+head.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"If we go up that left-hand stream we shall be lost among the
+mountains," one said. "We shall perish when the winter comes!"
+
+"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."
+
+So Lewis traveled two days' journey up the right-hand fork before he
+turned back, thoughtful.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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!"
+
+"Guard her well," said Lewis anxiously. "Much depends on her. I must
+go on ahead."
+
+He took the French interpreter, Drouillard, and 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"The girl was right--this is the river!" said Lewis to his men. "It
+comes from the mountains. We are right!"
+
+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.
+
+Now word went down to the mouth of Maria's 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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"We must leave more plunder here, Merne," said he. "We can't get into
+the mountains with all this."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"We must go on!" was always the cry.
+
+All felt that the summer was going; none knew what might be on ahead.
+
+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 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.
+
+"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.
+
+"She knows, Will!" said Lewis, once more. "We have a guide even here.
+We are the luckiest of men!"
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"We will camp here," said the leader. "We are tired, we have worked
+long and hard!"
+
+"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!"
+
+Without hesitation she pointed out that one of the three forks of the
+Missouri which led off to the westward--the one that Meriwether Lewis
+called the Jefferson.
+
+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.
+
+"Captains make medicine now," said Sacajawea to Charbonneau, her
+husband.
+
+For once more the captains hesitated. There were many passes, many
+valleys, many trails. Which was the way? The men grew sullen again.
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+Lewis thanked him, and the man brought from his 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.
+
+He halted, the old presentiment coming to his mind.
+
+"Is Shannon here?" he asked of the man who had handed him the coat.
+"He was to get my moccasins mended for me."
+
+"No, captain, he is out with Captain Clark," replied Fields, the
+Kentuckian.
+
+"Very well--that will do, Fields."
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+He pushed together yet more closely the burning 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:
+
+     Come back to me--ah, come back! I need you. I implore you to
+     return!
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE MOUNTAINS
+
+
+When 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.
+
+"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."
+
+"What do you mean?" demanded Meriwether Lewis quietly.
+
+"I scarce know. I am worn out, Merne. My men have been driven hard."
+
+"And why not?"
+
+His companion remained silent under the apparent rebuke.
+
+"You don't mean that we should return?" Lewis went on.
+
+"Why not, Merne?" said William Clark, sighing.
+
+"Our men are exhausted. There are other years than this."
+
+Meriwether Lewis turned upon his friend with the one flash of wrath
+which ever was known between them.
+
+"Good Heavens, Captain Clark," said he, "there is _not_ 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!"
+
+Clark's florid face flushed under the sting of his comrade's words;
+but his response was manful and just.
+
+"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."
+
+"You are only weary, Will. It is my turn now," said Meriwether Lewis;
+and he never told his friend of this last letter.
+
+A moment later he had called one of his men.
+
+"McNeal," said he, "get Reuben Fields, Whitehouse, and Goodrich. Make
+light packs. We are going into the mountains!"
+
+The four men shortly appeared, but they were silent, morose, moody.
+Those who were to remain in the camp shared their silence. Sacajawea
+alone smiled as they departed.
+
+"That way!" said she, pointing; and she knew that her chief would find
+the path.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+Pryor nodded his head.
+
+"Sure," said he, "and all the game-trails break off to the south and
+southwest. Follow the elk!"
+
+"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
+aisy enough after they've been done _wance_--but it's the first toime
+that counts!"
+
+"There is no other way, Pat," argued Ordway. "'Tis the rivers that
+make passes in any mountain range."
+
+"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."
+
+Pryor was willing to argue further.
+
+"All the Injuns have said the big river was over there somewhere."
+
+"'Somewhere'!" exclaimed Patrick Gass. "'Somewhere' is a mighty long
+ways when we're lost and hungry!"
+
+"Which is just what we are now," rejoined Pryor. "The sooner we start
+back the quicker we'll be out of this."
+
+"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?"
+
+"I ain't particular. 'Tis time we took this thing into our own hands."
+
+"It's where we're takin' it _now_, Pryor!" said Gass ominously. "A
+coort martial has set for less than that ye've said!"
+
+"Mebbe you couldn't call one--I don't know."
+
+"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!"
+
+"Well, maybe you are right, Pat," said Ordway after a time. And so the
+mutiny once more halted.
+
+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.
+
+"What is it, Captain?" asked Hugh McNeal. "Some game?"
+
+"No, a man--an Indian! Riding a good horse, too--that means he has
+more horses somewhere. Come, we will call to him!"
+
+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.
+
+"His people are that way," said Lewis. "Come!"
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"McNeal," said Lewis, "go back now across the range, and tell Captain
+Clark to bring up the men."
+
+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. He met McNeal
+coming down, bearing the tidings. Sacajawea ran on ahead in glee.
+
+"My people! My people!" she cried.
+
+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.[5]
+
+[Footnote 5: 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+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!]
+
+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.
+
+"Which way, Sacajawea?" Meriwether Lewis once more asked the Indian
+girl.
+
+But now she only shook her head.
+
+"Not know," said she. "These my people. They say big river that way.
+Not know which way."
+
+"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 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."
+
+"No good--no good!" insisted Sacajawea. "That way no good. My brother
+say go that way."
+
+She pointed to the north, and insisted that the party should go in
+that direction.
+
+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.
+
+"That way!" said Sacajawea, still pointing north.
+
+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.
+
+"We will go north," said Lewis.
+
+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.
+
+Charbonneau wanted to remain with the Shoshones, and to keep with him
+Sacajawea, his wife, so recently reunited to her people.
+
+"No!" said Sacajawea. "I no go back--I go with the white chief to the
+water that tastes salt!" And it was so ordered.
+
+Their course lay along the eastern side of the lofty 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"We will leave our horses here," said Lewis. "We will take to the
+boats once more."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+TRAIL'S END
+
+
+Where 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.
+
+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.
+
+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!
+
+The men had grown reckless now. Cruzatte, Labiche, Drouillard--all the
+adventurers--sang as they traveled, gayer and more gay from day to
+day.
+
+Always the landscape had fascinating interest for them in its repeated
+changes. They were in a different 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.
+
+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!
+
+Soon, so said the Indians, they would come to ships--canoes with trees
+standing in them, on which teepees were hung.
+
+"Me," said Cruzatte, "I never in my whole life was seen a sheep! I
+will be glad for see wan now."
+
+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.
+
+Here they saw many gulls. As to Columbus these 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.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+"The big flag, Sergeant Gass!" said Lewis.
+
+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.
+
+"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 we must pass the
+winter. In the spring we will make quick time homeward."
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"That's Lewis and Clark!" said Simon Fraser. "They were at the Mandan
+villages. We are beaten!"
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+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 they made that winter, Sacajawea presiding
+over the moccasin-boards, and teaching the men to sew.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Pretty soon, by and by," said the voyageurs, "we will run on the
+river for home once more!"
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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:
+
+     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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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 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.
+
+"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."
+
+"How is your salt, Will?" asked Lewis. "And your powder?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"What is the matter with you, Merne?" grumbled his more buoyant
+companion. "Are you still carrying all the weight of the entire
+world?"
+
+Lewis turned upon his friend with the same patient smile. Both were
+conscious that between them there was growing a thin, impermeable
+veil--something mysterious, the only barrier which ever had separated
+these two loyal souls.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+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?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+THE SUMMONS
+
+
+The 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Yes, Sergeant Ordway?" said he presently, looking up.
+
+Ordway saluted.
+
+"Something for you, sir. It seems to be a letter."
+
+"A letter! How could that be?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Possibly--possibly," said Lewis. His face was growing pale. "That is
+all, I think, Sergeant," he added.
+
+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!
+
+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!
+
+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!
+
+[Illustration: "Her face indeed!"]
+
+And now he read the letter, which covered many closely written sheets:
+
+     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.
+
+     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?
+
+     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.
+
+     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?
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     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 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?
+
+     How can I answer all these questions? Yet they come to my
+     mind as I write.
+
+     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?
+
+     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.
+
+     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?
+
+     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.
+
+     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----
+
+     Ah! let me write slowly here, and think very carefully!
+
+     My greatest wish in this, greater than any ambition I had
+     for myself or my family--_has been for you!_ 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?
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     Moreover, you shall say to yourself always:
+
+     "She asked and I refused her!"
+
+     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 could never wish to hurt you._
+
+     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!
+
+     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?
+
+     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!
+
+     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!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THE ABYSS
+
+
+The 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.
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+"In two hours, Merne," said he, "we will be on our way."
+
+It was now near the end of March. They dated and 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"That way," said Sacajawea, pointing, "big falls!"
+
+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 had pondered over this short cut, which the Nez
+Percés knew well.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"That way short path over mountains," said Sacajawea at length, at one
+point of their journey.
+
+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.
+
+"That way," said she, "find boat, find cache!"
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"That way!" she said.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Sergeant Gass," said Captain Lewis, "I am going 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."
+
+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.
+
+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 far more numerous band of
+Blackfeet, lay down to sleep that night in company.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Curse you, turn loose of me!" cried Reuben Fields.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 escaped, leaving the little party of whites
+unhurt, but much disturbed.
+
+"Mount, men! Hurry!" Lewis ordered.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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, 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.
+
+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:
+
+"The captain! I've keeled him--I've keeled the captain--I've shot
+him!"
+
+"What is that you're saying?" demanded Patrick Gass. "If you've done
+that, you would be better dead yourself!"
+
+He reached out, caught Cruzatte's rifle, and flung it away from him.
+
+"Where is he?" he demanded.
+
+Cruzatte led the way back.
+
+"I see something move on the bushes," said he, "and I shoot. It was
+not elk--it was the captain. _Mon Dieu_, what shall we do?"
+
+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.
+
+There were actual tears in the eyes of some of the men as they
+gathered around their commander--tears which touched Meriwether Lewis
+deeply.
+
+"It is all right, men!" said he. "Do not be alarmed. 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!"
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+It was another of the mysterious letters!
+
+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.
+
+He was with his men now, their eyes were on him 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 _corpus
+delicti_ of his crime, still insistent on coming to the eye!
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+After all, mere curiosity as to the nature of that mystery was a small
+matter. It seemed of more worth 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:
+
+     SIR AND MY FRIEND:
+
+     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!
+
+     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, _none the less I
+     must write it_.
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     What need now to ask you to come back? What need to reproach
+     you any further? How could I--how can I--with this terrible
+     thought in my soul that I am writing to a man whose eyes
+     cannot see, whose ears cannot hear?
+
+     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!
+
+     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.
+
+     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 _must_ not!
+
+     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.
+
+     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 _knew_ that you would see
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     Nay, I _cannot_ stop! How can you mind my garrulous pen--my
+     vain pen--my wicked, wicked, wicked, shameful pen--since you
+     cannot see what it says?
+
+     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 that also go out to the world--I glory in the
+     truth _that I have failed_!
+
+     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 _not_ come back to me.
+     There--have I not said all that a woman could say to a man,
+     living or dead?
+
+     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.
+
+     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 _from_ a man--yes, but they are not the things a woman
+     _loves in_ a man. No; it is the stiff-necked man, bound in
+     his own ambition, whom women love, even as they swear they
+     do not.
+
+     _Therefore, do not come back to me_, 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.
+
+     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, _and I rejoiced that you did not_!
+
+     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
+     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:
+
+     "I hope I shall not be unhappy, for I do not feel that I
+     have been bad."
+
+     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!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE BEE
+
+
+"Captain, 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!"
+
+Gass chuckled at his own jest as his leader looked up at him.
+
+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.
+
+William Clark, walking up and down along the bank, looking ever
+upstream for some sign of his friend, hurried down to meet the boats,
+and gazed anxiously at the figure lifted in the arms of the men.
+
+"What's wrong, Merne?" he exclaimed. "Tell me!"
+
+Lewis waved a hand at him in reassurance, and smiled as his friend
+bent above him.
+
+"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."
+
+By marvel, by miracle, the two friends were reunited once more; and
+surely around the camp fires there were stories for all to tell.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"We must get on!" said he. "We cannot delay."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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 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."
+
+Her face lighted up with a strange wistfulness.
+
+"Yes, Capt'in," said she, "I go with Big White--and you."
+
+He smiled as he shook his head.
+
+"We go farther than that, many sleeps farther."
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"Aw right!" said Sacajawea, in paleface idiom. "Him stay--me go!"
+
+Meriwether Lewis pondered for a time on what fashion of speech he must
+employ to make her understand.
+
+"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 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?"
+
+"Your words are good," said Sacajawea. "But I go, too! No want to stay
+here now. No can stay!"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+A spasm of pain crossed Lewis's face.
+
+"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 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!
+
+"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."
+
+The unwonted tears of an Indian woman were in the eyes which looked up
+at him.
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The little Indian dog, Meriwether Lewis's constant companion, now,
+like Sacajawea, mercifully banished, sat at her side, as motionless
+as she. Both of them, mute and resigned, accepted their fate.
+
+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!
+
+"_Capitaine, Capitaine_, look what I'll found!"
+
+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.
+
+"What is it, Cruzatte?" smiled Lewis.
+
+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.
+
+"Ouch, by gar! She'll bite me with his tail. She's hot!"
+
+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.
+
+Meriwether Lewis held the tiny creature in the palm of his hand.
+
+"Why did you kill it, Cruzatte?" he asked. "It was on its errand."
+
+He turned to his friend who sat near, at the other side.
+
+"Will," he said, "our expedition has succeeded. Here is the proof of
+it. The bee is following our path. They are coming!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"They are coming!" said he again to his friend.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+WHAT VOICE HAD CALLED?
+
+
+They 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+He turned once more and bent down, as if figuring 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.
+
+"Hoh!" he exclaimed at length, almost like an Indian, as if in some
+definite conclusion.
+
+He had run his trail to the end, had finished the problem in the
+ashes.
+
+"Hoh!" his voice again rumbled in his chest.
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Meriwether Lewis knew the place of every man in 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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!
+
+"Shannon!" He heard a hoarse voice command him. "Get up!"
+
+George Shannon, the youngest of the party, sprang out of his bed half
+clad.
+
+"Captain!" He saluted again. "What is it, sir?" he half whispered, as
+if in apprehension.
+
+"Put on your jacket, Shannon. Come with me!"
+
+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.
+
+"What is it, Captain?" he inquired once more.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"You know what I want, Shannon! I want the rest of these--I want the
+last one of them! Give it to me now!"
+
+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.
+
+"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 don't you
+answer?" With sudden and violent strength Lewis shook the boy as a dog
+might a rat. "Answer me!"
+
+"Captain, I cannot!" broke out Shannon.
+
+"What? Then there is another?"
+
+"I'll not answer! I'll stand my trial before court martial, if you
+please."
+
+Again the heavy hand on his shoulder.
+
+"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!"
+
+Shannon laid a hand on the iron wrist.
+
+"How do you know?" he faltered. "Why do you think----"
+
+"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--_you_ 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.
+
+"Give me that letter! I am your officer."
+
+"Captain, I will not!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Yes!"
+
+"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!"
+
+The hand closed at his throat. The boy could not speak, but still
+Meriwether Lewis growled on at him.
+
+"Shannon! Speak! Why have you kept secrets from your commanding
+officer? You have begun to tell me--tell me all!"
+
+The boy's hand clutched at his leader's wrists. At length Lewis loosed
+him.
+
+"Captain," began the victim, "what do you mean? What can I do?"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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!"
+
+With one movement, Meriwether Lewis flung off the uniform coat that
+he wore. They stood now, man to man, stripped, and neither gave back
+from the other.
+
+"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?"
+
+The last cruelty was too much. The boy began to gulp.
+
+"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."
+
+"Is that the reason?"
+
+"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!"
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"What is it, boy?" he whispered at last. "What have I done? What did I
+say?"
+
+Shannon was sobbing now.
+
+"Captain," he said, and thrust a hand into the bosom 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."
+
+Lewis's strained muscles relaxed, his blazing eyes softened.
+
+"Shannon!" he whispered once more. "What have I done?"
+
+He took the letter in his hand, but did not look at it, although his
+fingers could feel the seal unbroken.
+
+"Why do you give it to me now, boy?" he asked at length. "What changed
+you?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Come back--when?"
+
+"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."
+
+"What did she promise you?"
+
+"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."
+
+"When was all this?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Yes, I know, Shannon."
+
+"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?"
+
+"No, Shannon. No! In all this there is but one to blame, and that is
+your officer, myself!"
+
+"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 ought to--that she would want me to. It is the fever,
+sir!"
+
+"Aye, the fever!"
+
+Silence fell as they stood there in the night. The boy went on, half
+tremblingly:
+
+"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----"
+
+And now it was the eye of Meriwether Lewis that suddenly was wet; it
+was his voice that trembled.
+
+"Boy," said he, "I am your officer. Your officer asks your pardon. I
+have tried myself. I was guilty. Will you forget this?"
+
+"Not a word to a soul in the world, Captain!" broke out Shannon.
+"About a woman, you see, we do not talk."
+
+"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?"
+
+"Nothing in the world, Captain--but just one thing."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Please, sir, tell me that you don't think me a coward!"
+
+"A coward? No, Shannon, you are the bravest fellow I ever met!"
+
+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 and
+of remorse--had swept by, so that Lewis once more was officer,
+gentleman, just and generous man.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+     MY FRIEND:
+
+     This is my last letter to you. This is the one I have marked
+     Number Six--the last one for my messenger.
+
+     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 to lay me down,
+     I hope, too, some wilderness of wood or waters will be
+     around me with its vast silences.
+
+     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?
+
+     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 _is_----
+
+               Yours,
+
+                    THEODOSIA.
+
+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.
+
+She had said it--had said that last fated word. Now indeed he knew
+what voice had called to him across the deeps!
+
+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!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE NEWS
+
+
+A 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!
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+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 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!
+
+"Present arms!" rang out a sharp command, as the boats lined up along
+the wharf.
+
+The brown and scarred rifles came to place.
+
+"Aim! Fire!"
+
+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.
+
+"Come with me!"
+
+"No, with me!"
+
+"With me!"
+
+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.
+
+"_Ma foi!_" exclaimed more than one pretty French maiden. "Such
+men--such splendid men--savages, yet white! See! See!"
+
+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, grave and dignified,
+feeling almost for the first time the weight of what they had done?
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+"My matches--my thermometers--my instruments--how did they perform?"
+
+The speaker was Dr. Saugrain, eager to meet again his friends.
+
+"Perfect, doctor, perfect! We have some of the matches yet. As to the
+thermometers, we broke the last one before we reached the sea."
+
+"You found the sea? _Mon Dieu!_"
+
+"We found the Pacific. We found the Columbia, 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."
+
+"The beaver--did you find the beaver yonder?" demanded the voice of a
+swarthy man who had attended them.
+
+It was Manuel Liza, fur-trader, his eyes glowing in his interest in
+that reply.
+
+"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!"
+
+"Your men, will they be free to make return up the river with trading
+parties?"
+
+William Clark smiled at the keenness of the old French trader.
+
+"You could not possibly have better men," said he.
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+"Captain," inquired Chouteau at length, "your luggage, your
+boxes--where are they?"
+
+Meriwether Lewis pointed to a skin parfleche and a knotted bandanna
+handkerchief which George Shannon carried for him.
+
+"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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"We bring them better news than that. What news for us?" asked the two
+captains of their host.
+
+"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----"
+
+"Yes, we did not know of it for two years," said William Clark. "We
+have just heard about it, up river."
+
+"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?"
+
+It was the dark eye of Meriwether Lewis which now compelled his
+attention.
+
+"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."
+
+He did not notice the sudden change in Meriwether Lewis's face.
+
+"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?"
+
+"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!"
+
+"He had many friends," went on Chouteau; "very many friends. They are
+scattered even now all up and down this country--men who will not
+give up their cause. All those men needed was a leader."
+
+"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!"
+
+Chouteau shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"There may be two names for it," he said.
+
+"And every one asked to join the cause was asked to join in treason to
+his country. Is it not so?" Lewis went on.
+
+"There may be two names for it," smiled the other, still shrugging.
+
+"He was my friend," said Meriwether Lewis. "I trusted him!"
+
+"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
+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! _Does_ no one know?"
+
+The captain did not speak, and Chouteau presently went on.
+
+"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--_messieurs_, you two young men, with your
+Lewis and Clark Expedition! It was _you_ who broke the Burr
+Conspiracy--for so they call it in these days. _Messieurs_, that is
+your news!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+THE GUESTS OF A NATION
+
+
+"Attention, men!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Men," said he, "you are to be mustered out today. There will be given
+to each of you a certificate of service 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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"Attention! Aim--fire! Break ranks--march!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The progress to Washington was a triumph. Everywhere their admiring
+countrymen were excited over their marvelous journey. They were fĂªted
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 fĂªted 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.
+
+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.
+
+Toward none of the fair maids who now flocked 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"My son!" said she at length, half as much in terror as in joy.
+"Merne!"
+
+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.
+
+"My son!" was all she could say. "They told me that you never would
+come back, that you were dead. I thought the wilderness had claimed
+you at last, Merne!"
+
+"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."
+
+"And what have you found?"
+
+"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!"
+
+"And you did that? Merne, was _that_ 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?"
+
+"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?"
+
+"You should be, Merne, but are you?"
+
+"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. 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."
+
+"Yes, but are you happy? Turn your face to me."
+
+But he did not turn his face.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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
+our country! My son, that was our vision. You have proved it. You
+have been both dreamer and doer!"
+
+He came up and placed a half playful hand on Meriwether Lewis's
+shoulder.
+
+"Did I know men, then?" he demanded.
+
+"And did I, Mr. Jefferson? Captain Clark----"
+
+"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!"
+
+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!
+
+"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!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+MR. JEFFERSON'S ADVICE
+
+
+"Merne, 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."
+
+"Meaning, Mr. Jefferson?----"
+
+"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."
+
+"I heard some talk in the West, Mr. Jefferson," hesitated Meriwether
+Lewis.
+
+"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. 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."
+
+"We are glad that you have been pleased, Mr. Jefferson," said Lewis
+simply.
+
+"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!"
+
+"And I nearly did, Mr. Jefferson!" broke out Meriwether Lewis. "Do
+not praise me too much. I was tempted----"
+
+The old man turned toward him, his face grave.
+
+"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!"
+
+Lewis nodded, mute.
+
+"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 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."
+
+The bowed head of Meriwether Lewis was his only answer. The keen-faced
+old man went on:
+
+"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--_our_
+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.
+
+"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, through which alone the great
+deeds of the world always have been done."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+"What is it, Merne?" exclaimed the old man. "What have I done?"
+
+"You speak of my honor. Do not! Indeed, you touch me deep."
+
+Thomas Jefferson, wise old man, raised a hand.
+
+"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."
+
+"Mr. Jefferson, I shall never marry."
+
+The two sat looking into each other's eyes for just a moment. Said
+Thomas Jefferson at length, slowly:
+
+"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."
+
+Lewis did not speak.
+
+"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 _her_! Is it not so?"
+
+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.
+
+"She is at Richmond, Merne?" said Mr. Jefferson a moment later.
+
+The young man nodded.
+
+"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."
+
+The thin lips compressed for a moment. It was not in implacable,
+vengeful zeal--it was but in thought.
+
+"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 _not for his daughter_!"
+
+"Mr. Jefferson!" The face of Meriwether Lewis was strangely moved. "I
+see the actual greatness of your soul; but I ask nothing."
+
+"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."
+
+Lewis bowed silently.
+
+"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 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 _politics will try it_! Go to Theodosia,
+Merne, in her desperate need."
+
+"But what can I do, Mr. Jefferson?" broke out his listener.
+
+"Do precisely what I tell you. Go to that social outcast. Take her on
+your arm before all the world--_and before that jury_! 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!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+THE QUALITY OF MERCY
+
+
+In 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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?
+
+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.
+
+Burr advanced to meet his visitor with something of his own old
+haughtiness of mien, a little of the former brilliance of his eye.
+
+"Governor, I am delighted to see you, back safe and sound from your
+journey. My congratulations, sir!"
+
+Meriwether Lewis made no reply, but gazed at him steadily, well aware
+of the stinging sarcasm of his words.
+
+"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."
+
+"You promised them a country, Colonel Burr--from what?"
+
+"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!"
+
+"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!"
+
+"It would seem, sir," said Aaron Burr, a cynical smile twisting his
+thin lip, "that I may not count upon your friendship!"
+
+"That is a hard speech, Colonel Burr. I was your friend."
+
+"More than your chief ever was! I fancy Mr. Jefferson would like to
+see me pilloried, drawn and quartered, after the old way."
+
+"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."
+
+"I am a plain man, and a busy man," said Aaron Burr coldly. "I must
+employ my time now to the betterment 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 _you_, sir, with your cursed expedition, that
+defeated Aaron Burr!"
+
+He turned, proud and defiant even in his failure, and when Meriwether
+Lewis looked up he was gone.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 she--what had been her
+perils? What were her thoughts?
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Yea! Yea! Now I know!"
+
+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 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!
+
+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.
+
+"Sir--Captain--that is to say, Governor Lewis," she corrected herself,
+"I was not expecting you."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"I shall say no word to change that belief," said Meriwether Lewis.
+"But your husband is not here? It is he whom I must see at once."
+
+"Why must you see him?"
+
+"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."
+
+"But--_suppose he does not know_?"
+
+He could only stand silent, regarding her fixedly.
+
+"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!"
+
+"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 _treason_. Tell me, did
+you know this when you came to me?"
+
+He saw the quick pain upon her face, the flush that rose to her pale
+cheek. She drew herself up proudly.
+
+"I shall not answer that!" said she.
+
+"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."
+
+"I only wanted you to be happy--that was my one desire."
+
+She looked aside, and a moment passed before she heard his deep voice
+reply.
+
+"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?"
+
+"_My father's freedom!_"
+
+"I cannot promise that; but all that I can do I will."
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"[6]
+
+[Footnote 6: 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.
+
+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!]
+
+"That is impossible. What do you mean?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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. _Ergo_----"
+
+"_Ergo_, Mr. Jefferson is not hostile to us! And you would do
+that--you would take that chance?"
+
+"For you."
+
+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 his arm, pale, clad all in black, walked the
+daughter of the prisoner at the bar!
+
+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.
+
+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. _Ergo, ergo_, 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Between them, as they stood now at last, about to part, there
+stretched an abysmal gulf which might never personally be passed by
+either.
+
+She faced him at length, trembling, pleading, helpless.
+
+"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!"
+
+"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!"
+
+"I cannot say good-by!" said she. "Ah, do not ask me that! We are but
+beginning now. Oh, see! see!"
+
+He looked at her still, an unspeakable sadness in his gaze--at her
+hand, extended pleadingly toward him.
+
+"Won't you take my hand, Merne?" said she. "Won't you?"
+
+"I dare not," said he hoarsely. "No, I dare not!"
+
+"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!"
+
+"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--because I love you! I always shall. God help me, it is
+the truth!"
+
+"Did you get my letters?" she said suddenly, and looked him fair in
+the face.
+
+Meriwether Lewis stood searching her countenance with his own grave
+eyes.
+
+"_Letters?_" said he at length. "_What letters?_"
+
+Her eyes looked up at him luminously.
+
+"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!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+THE FRIENDS
+
+
+Allied 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.
+
+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.
+
+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 swarm of conflicts over land-titles.
+Scores of new duties arose, and scores of new remedies needed to be
+devised.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+But at last one means of attack was found. Once more--the last
+time--the great heart of a noble man was pierced.
+
+"Will," said he to his friend, as they met at William Clark's home,
+according to their frequent custom, "I am in trouble."
+
+"Fancied trouble, Merne," said Clark. "You're always finding it!"
+
+"Would I might call it fancied! But this is something 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."
+
+"Tut, tut!" said William Clark gravely. "Come, let us see."
+
+"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?"
+
+"But Merne, you, the soul of honor----"
+
+"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."
+
+"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 minute. You are among your friends. Do not
+grieve. 'Twill all come well!"
+
+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:
+
+     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.
+
+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.
+
+In this he was well supported by his friend Dr. Saugrain.
+
+"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 Orleans and the sea. The voyage will do you much good."
+
+"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."
+
+"Your Excellency plans to go by land, then, and not by sea?"
+
+"I do not know. I must save all the time possible. And Peria----"
+
+"Yes, Excellency."
+
+"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."
+
+"Yes, Excellency."
+
+"Do not call me 'Excellency'--I detest the title! I am Governor Lewis,
+and may so be distinguished. 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."
+
+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.
+
+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 _en masse_ to bid him godspeed upon his
+journey.
+
+"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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"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!"
+
+"Governor, see if you can get me an artificial limb of some sort while
+you are in the East."
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Good-by, Will!" said he.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+THE WILDERNESS
+
+
+The 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.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Governor Lewis!" exclaimed Major Neely, as he met him. "You are ill!
+You are in an ague!"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Major," said he, "I can ride now. Have you horses for the journey?"
+
+"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.
+
+"It is not a question of my personal convenience, Major," said
+Meriwether Lewis. "Time presses for me. I must go on!"
+
+"At least you shall not go alone," said Major Neely. "You should have
+some escort. Doubtless you have important papers?"
+
+Meriwether Lewis nodded.
+
+"My servant has arranged everything, I fancy. Can you get an extra man
+or two? The Natchez Trace is none too safe."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"He talks to himself all the time," said one of the 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.
+
+"What is wrong with the Governor, think you?" inquired this man once
+more of Peria, Lewis's servant.
+
+"It is his way," shrugged Peria. "We leave him alone. His hand is
+heavy when he is angry."
+
+"He rides always with his rifle across his saddle?"
+
+"Always, on the trail."
+
+"Loaded, I presume--and his pistols?"
+
+"You may well suppose that," said Peria.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Naturally," grinned Peria.
+
+They looked at one another. And thereafter the two, as was well noted,
+conversed often and more intimately together as the journey
+progressed.
+
+"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
+wear a coat that shows his own quality? This one's a dozen years old,
+you might say."
+
+"He always wears it on the trail," said Peria. "At home he watches it
+as if it held some treasure."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"And what of you, Governor?"
+
+"I shall go on ahead, if you please. Is there no house near by? You
+know the trail. Perhaps we can get lodgings not far on."
+
+"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?"
+
+"Agreed," said Lewis, and setting spurs to his horse, he left them.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"A half-dozen, with an extra horse or two."
+
+"I reckon we can fix ye up. Light down and come in."
+
+She was noting well her guest, and her shrewd eyes 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.
+
+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.
+
+"Set up and eat," she said at last. "I reckon your men are not
+coming."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"Yes. Some of my folks is thinking of going out further into the
+West."
+
+He turned to her abstractedly, yet endeavoring to be courteous.
+
+"A wonderful country, Madam!" said he; and so he fell again into his
+moody staring out beyond the door.
+
+After a time the hostess of the backwoods cabin sought to make up a
+bed for him, but he motioned to her to desist.
+
+"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."
+
+Peria, it seemed, had by this time found his way to the cabin along
+the trail. He was alone.
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"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 Neely? Where are the other men? Why have they not come
+up?"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+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. 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.
+
+It was a face that he had seen before--a hundred times he had gazed
+thus at it on the far Western trails.
+
+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:
+
+     You must not kiss my picture, because I am in your power.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+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. His haggard face was lighted by its flare as he stood
+there, leaning out, listening.
+
+It was then that his doom came to him.
+
+There came the sound of a shot; a second; and yet another.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+He was bleeding from three wounds; but still he stood and spoke to
+her.
+
+"In God's name, Madam," said he, "bring me water! I am killed!"
+
+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.
+
+She heard no sound. She flung open the door and 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+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--_Theodosia!_
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+"Your wish--your great desire--your hope--your dream--all these shall
+be yours at last, even though the trail be long, even though the
+burden be too heavy to carry farther."
+
+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.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+But not her power nor any power could heal such wounds as his. Once
+more she called out for aid, and none came.
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+DOWN TO THE SEA
+
+
+Many 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.
+
+"Your son was a brave man--he lived long," said Peria, haltingly, at
+the close of his story.
+
+"Yes," said the mother of Meriwether Lewis. "He was a brave man. He
+was strong!"
+
+"He was unhappy; but why he should have killed himself----"
+
+"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!"
+
+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
+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.
+
+Soon there came down from Monticello to Locust Hall the coach of
+Thomas Jefferson.
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"Whom had he ever harmed?" she demanded of Jefferson.
+
+"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!"
+
+"Never, Mr. Jefferson, never will I believe that! It was not in his
+nature!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"He never wronged a woman in his life----"
+
+"Precisely, nor in his death would he wrong one! Do you begin to see?"
+
+"Did he ever speak to you of her?"
+
+"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."
+
+"But shall I let that stain rest on his name?" The dark eye of the old
+woman gleamed upon her son's friend.
+
+"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 we shall not ask to know.
+If ever he sinned, he is purged of any sin."
+
+Jefferson was silent for a moment, holding the bereaved mother's hand
+in his own.
+
+"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."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+What of Theodosia Alston, loyal and lofty soul, blameless wife,
+devoted and pathetic adherent to the fallen fortunes of her
+ill-starred father?
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+To this day none knows what was the fate of Aaron 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:
+
+     "I hope to be happy in the next world, for I have not been
+     bad in this."
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+That is the happy ending of his story--his country! It is ours. As its
+title came to us in honor, it is for 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.
+
+
+
+
+ "_The Books You Like to Read at the Price You Like to Pay_"
+
+ There Are Two Sides to Everything--
+
+ --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.
+
+ You will find more than five hundred titles to choose
+ from--books for every mood and every taste and every
+ pocket-book.
+
+ _Don't forget the other side, but in case the wrapper is
+ lost, write to the publishers for a complete catalog._
+
+ _There is a Grosset & Dunlap Book for every mood and for
+ every taste_
+
+
+
+
+ EMERSON HOUGH'S NOVELS
+
+ May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.
+
+ THE COVERED WAGON
+
+ An epic story of the Great West from which the famous
+ picture was made.
+
+ THE WAY OF A MAN
+
+ A colorful romance of the pioneer West before the
+ Civil War.
+
+ THE SAGEBRUSHER
+
+ An Eastern girl answers a matrimonial ad. and goes out
+ West in the hills of Montana to find her mate.
+
+ THE WAY OUT
+
+ A romance of the feud district of the Cumberland country.
+
+ THE BROKEN GATE
+
+ A story of broken social conventions and of a woman's
+ determination to put the past behind her.
+
+ THE WAY TO THE WEST
+
+ Daniel Boone, Davy Crockett and Kit Carson figure in
+ this story of the opening of the West.
+
+ HEART'S DESIRE
+
+ The story of what happens when the railroad came to a
+ little settlement in the far West.
+
+ THE PURCHASE PRICE
+
+ A story of Kentucky during the days after the American
+ Revolution.
+
+ GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Magnificent Adventure, by Emerson Hough
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30298 ***
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+<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&#8217;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 &amp; 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="&#8220;&#8216;Him Ro&#8217;shones,&#8217; replied the girl&#8221;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&#8220;&#8216;Him Ro&#8217;shones,&#8217; replied the girl&#8221;
+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">&nbsp;</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&#8217;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&#8217;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&#8217;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">&#8220;&#8216;Him Ro&#8217;shones,&#8217; replied the girl&#8221;</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">&#8220;&#8216;Mistah Thomas Jeffahson!&#8217; was his sole announcement&#8221;</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Illo1">50</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">&#8220;&#8216;Oh, Theo, what have I done?&#8217;&#8221;</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Illo2">162</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">&#8220;Her face indeed!&#8221;</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&mdash;a woman now approaching middle age&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;its flung doors opening it from front to rear to
+the gaze as one approached&mdash;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&mdash;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>outr&eacute;</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&mdash;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&mdash;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&#8217;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>&#8220;I am late, mother,&#8221; said he at length, as he turned and, seating
+himself at her feet, threw his arm across her lap&mdash;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>&#8220;You are late, yes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And you waited&mdash;so long?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am always waiting for you, Merne,&#8221; said she. She used the
+Elizabethan vowel, as one should pronounce &#8220;bird,&#8221; with no sound of
+&#8220;u&#8221;&mdash;&#8220;Mairne,&#8221; the name sounded as she spoke it. And her voice was
+full and rich and strong, as was her son&#8217;s; musically strong.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am always waiting for you, Merne,&#8221; said she. &#8220;But I long ago
+learned not to expect anything else of you.&#8221; She spoke with not the
+least reproach in her tone. &#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And you did not fear for me, then&mdash;gone overnight in the woods?&#8221; He
+half smiled at that thought himself.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You know I would not. I know you, what you are&mdash;born woodsman. No, I
+trust you to care for yourself in any wild country, my son, and to
+come back. And then&mdash;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?&#8221;</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>&#8220;I did not desert my duty, mother,&#8221; said he at length.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, no, you would not do that, Merne!&#8221; returned the widow.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Please, mother,&#8221; said he suddenly, &#8220;I want you to call me by my full
+name&mdash;that of your people. Am I not Meriwether, too?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The hand on his forehead ceased its gentle movement, fell to its
+owner&#8217;s lap. A sigh passed his mother&#8217;s set lips.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, my son, Meriwether,&#8221; said she. &#8220;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am Meriwether Lewis, mother,&#8221; said he gravely, and no more.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Yes!&#8221; She spoke absently, musingly. &#8220;Yes, you always were!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I went westward, clear across the Ragged Mountains,&#8221; said the youth.
+&#8220;These&#8221;&mdash;and he pointed with contempt to the small trophies at his
+belt&mdash;&#8220;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&mdash;the
+woods were beautiful today. As to the trails, even if there is no
+trail, I know the way back home&mdash;you know that, mother.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know that, my son, yes. You were born for the forest. I fear I
+shall not hold you long on this quiet farm.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;for I hold it sure that Mr.
+Jefferson will go there in some still higher place. He was my father&#8217;s
+friend, and is ours still.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It may be that you will go to Washington, my son,&#8221; said his mother;
+&#8220;I do not know. But will you stay there? The forest will call to you
+all your life&mdash;all your life! Do I not know you, then? Can I not see
+your life&mdash;all your life&mdash;as plainly as if it were written? Do I not
+know&mdash;your mother? Why should not your mother know?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He looked around at her rather gravely once again, unsmilingly, for he
+rarely smiled.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How do you know, mother? What do you know? Tell me&mdash;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;must do&mdash;because it
+was written for you. Yonder forest will always call to you.&#8221; She
+turned now toward the sun, sinking across the red-leaved forest lands.
+&#8220;The wilderness is your home. You will go out into it and
+return&mdash;often; and then at last you will go and not come back
+again&mdash;not to me&mdash;not to anyone will you come back.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The youth did not move as she sat, her hands on his head. Her voice
+went on, even and steady.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;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&mdash;gained through that will which never would bend for
+me or for anyone else in the world!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He remained motionless, apparently unaffected, as his mother went on.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You were always old, always grown up, always resolved, always your
+own master&mdash;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&mdash;I can see her black
+face grinning now&mdash;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&mdash;you recognized sight and sound together, as no child usually
+does for months. You were beautiful, my boy, so strong, so
+straight&mdash;ah, yes!&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She paused, but still he did not speak.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;call it what
+you like&mdash;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&mdash;you must, my son. Beyond all other
+men, you will suffer!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You were better named Cassandra, mother!&#8221; Yet the young man scarce
+smiled even now.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I am a prophetess, all too sooth a prophetess, my son. I see
+ahead as only a mother can see&mdash;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The boy nodded now.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then know how your own must be racked in turn!&#8221; said she. &#8220;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&mdash;you
+will drive yourself. What that means to you in agony&mdash;what that means
+when your will is set against the unalterable and the inevitable&mdash;I
+wish&mdash;oh, I wish I could not see it! But I do see it, now, all laid
+out before me&mdash;all, all! Oh, Merne&mdash;may I not call you Merne once more
+before I let you go?&#8221;</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>&#8220;Tragedy is yours, my son,&#8221; said she, slowly, &#8220;not happiness. No woman
+will ever come and lie in your arms happy and content.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mother!&#8221;</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>&#8220;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&mdash;I see that for you, my
+first-born boy! You will love&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;such a man as you will be!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She sighed, shivered, and looked about her, startled, as if she had
+spoken aloud in some dream.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, then, go on!&#8221; 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. &#8220;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&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You give me no long shrift, mother?&#8221; said the youth, with a twinkle
+in his eye.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&#8217;s
+future&mdash;if she dares to read it. She knows&mdash;she knows!&#8221;</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>&#8220;Listen, Merne,&#8221; she said. &#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Again silence fell between them before she went on, her hand again
+resting on her son&#8217;s dark hair.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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!&#8221;</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&mdash;for
+the last time in his life&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;then but beginning to lighten
+under the rays of the morning sun&mdash;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&#8217;s ears.</p>
+
+<p>Sitting as erect and as easily as any cavalier of the world&#8217;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&mdash;a
+horse deep bay in color, high-mettled, a mount fit for a monarch&mdash;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&mdash;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&#8217;s
+favorite saddler. It was the duty as well as the delight of Mr.
+Jefferson&#8217;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&#8217;s face was grave, his mouth unsmiling&mdash;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&#8217;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&mdash;the
+voice of a woman&mdash;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&mdash;one
+of the mottled, harmless species sometimes locally called the
+blow-snake&mdash;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&#8217;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;or had you taken consent&mdash;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&mdash;a flush which shamed him, but
+which he could not master. He only kept his eyes straight between his
+horse&#8217;s ears as he rode&mdash;after he had raised his hat and bowed at the
+close of the episode.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am to thank Captain Lewis once more,&#8221; began the young woman, in a
+voice vibrant and clear&mdash;the sweetest, kindest voice in the world. &#8220;It
+is good fortune that you rode abroad so early this morning. You always
+come at need!&#8221;</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>&#8220;Can you then call it good fortune?&#8221; His own voice was low,
+suppressed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why not, then?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You did not need me. A moment, and you would have been in command
+again&mdash;there was no real need of me. Ah, you never need me!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yet you come. You were here, had the need been worse. And, indeed, I
+was quite off my guard&mdash;I must have been thinking of something else.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And I also.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And there was the serpent.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;and
+let it fall again?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Captain Meriwether Lewis is singularly gloomy this morning!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not more than I have been always. How brief was my little hour! Yet
+for that time I knew paradise&mdash;as I do now. We should part here,
+madam, now, forever. Yon serpent spelled danger for both of us.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;For both of us?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, forgive me! None the less, I could not help my thoughts&mdash;cannot
+help them now. I ride here every morning. I saw your horse&#8217;s
+hoof-marks some two miles back. Do you suppose I did not know whose
+they were?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;And you followed me? Ah!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I suppose I did, and yet I did not. If I did I knew I was riding to
+my fate.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She would have spoken&mdash;her lips half parted&mdash;but what she might have
+said none heard.</p>
+
+<p>He went on:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You have never spoken aught else to any human soul. That I know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Her face was troubled. She looked aside as she replied in a voice low,
+but firm:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Any woman would be glad to hear such words from Captain Lewis, and I
+am glad. But&mdash;the honest wife never lived who could listen to them
+often.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know that,&#8221; he said simply.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No!&#8221; Her voice was very low now; her eyes soft and cast down as they
+fell upon a ring under her glove. &#8220;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&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;when I first had my captain&#8217;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&mdash;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&mdash;and there is harm for you, whom all good men should wish to
+shield.&#8221;</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>&#8220;Good-by!&#8221; said he. &#8220;Now we may go on for the brief space that remains
+for us,&#8221; he added a moment later. &#8220;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I trust Captain Meriwether Lewis,&#8221; 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&#8217;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>&#8220;Theodosia, look!&#8221; said the young man, suddenly swinging a gesture
+about him. &#8220;Did I not say right? It is Eden! Ah, what a pity it is
+that Eden must ever be the same&mdash;a serpent&mdash;repentance&mdash;and farewell!
+Yet it was so beautiful.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A sinless Eden, sir.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No! I will not lie&mdash;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&mdash;I am fortunate that it came by chance today.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Going away&mdash;where, then, my friend?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;to learn that I had come too late! But the West still is
+there&mdash;the wilderness still exists to welcome such as me!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But you will&mdash;you will come back again?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;as one must, to
+journey into the desert yonder. If only I dared orient my soul as
+well!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You would never doubt my faith in my husband.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No! Of course, you love your husband. I could not look at you a
+second time if you did not.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are a good man, Meriwether Lewis!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do not say it! I am a man accursed of evil passions&mdash;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&mdash;tell me it will
+change&mdash;tell me that I shall forget! I should not believe you&mdash;but
+tell me that. Does a man never forget? Success&mdash;for others;
+happiness&mdash;for someone else. My mother said that was to be my fate.
+What did she mean?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And a woman may divide not love, only love of love itself?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I shall love your future, and shall watch it always,&#8221; she replied,
+coloring. &#8220;You will be a great man, and there will be a great place
+for you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And what then?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;remember me as long as you can, Meriwether Lewis.&#8221;</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>&#8220;As long as I can?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes. Let your own mind run on the ambitions of a proud man, a strong
+man. Ambition&mdash;power&mdash;place&mdash;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.&#8221;</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>&#8220;I want to see you happy after a time&mdash;with some good woman at your
+side&mdash;your children by you&mdash;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I do not seem to change,&#8221; said he simply. &#8220;I hope I shall be
+able to carry my burden and to hold my trail.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Fie! I will not have such talk on a morning like this.&#8221;</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>&#8220;A good journey, Meriwether Lewis,&#8221; said she, &#8220;and a happy return from
+it! Cast away such melancholy&mdash;you will forget all this!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Forgive me, then,&#8221; she said, and once more her small hand reached out
+toward him. &#8220;I would not wound you. I asked you only to remember me
+as&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;As&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;As I shall you, of course. And I remember that bright day when you
+came to me&mdash;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;More likely six years. If there is healing for me, the wilderness
+alone must give it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I shall be an old woman&mdash;old and sallow from the Carolina suns. You
+will have forgotten me then.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is enough,&#8221; said he. &#8220;You have lightened my burden for me as much
+as may be&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, Meriwether Lewis,&#8221; said she quietly, &#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He raised a hand.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;I will
+not have it! Only this remains to comfort me&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Go, then, my savage gentleman, and let me&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And let you never see my face again?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She rose and stood looking at him, her own eyes wet with a sudden
+moisture.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Women worth loving are so few!&#8221; she said slowly. &#8220;Clean men are so
+few! How a woman could have loved you, Meriwether Lewis! How some
+woman ought to love you! Yes, go now,&#8221; she concluded. &#8220;Yes, go!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mrs. Alston will wait with you here for a few moments,&#8221; said
+Meriwether Lewis to the miller&#8217;s wife quietly. He stood with his
+bridle rein across his arm. &#8220;See that she is very comfortable. She
+might have a second cup of your good coffee?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He swung into his saddle, reined his horse about, turned and bowed
+formally to his late <i>vis-&agrave;-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&mdash;intent as he was upon his present business
+of keeping company with a skilled horseman&mdash;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&mdash;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&#8217;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&mdash;indeed, his
+whole air and carriage&mdash;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>&#8220;Ah, Captain Lewis!&#8221; he said in a voice of extraordinary sweetness,
+yet of power. &#8220;You also have caught the secret of this climate, eh?
+You ride in the early morning&mdash;I do not wonder. You are Virginian, and
+so know the heats of Washington. I fancy you recognize Mr. Merry,&#8221; he
+added, his glance turning from one to the other.</p>
+
+<p>The young Virginian bowed to both gentlemen.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;to say&mdash;that he enjoys it!&#8221;</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>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; said the envoy, &#8220;to be sure I recall the young man. I met him
+in the anteroom at the President&#8217;s house.&#8221;</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&#8217;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>&#8220;And you are done your ride?&#8221; said Burr quickly, for his was a keen
+nose to scent any complication. &#8220;Tell me&#8221;&mdash;he lifted his own reins now
+to proceed&mdash;&#8220;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?&#8221;</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>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; he replied calmly, &#8220;I have seen Mrs. Alston. I left her but now
+at the old mill, having a cup of coffee with the miller&#8217;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You see!&#8221; laughed Burr, as he turned to Merry. &#8220;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!&#8221;</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>&#8220;There is the ablest man I have seen in Washington,&#8221; blurted out Merry
+suddenly, apropos of nothing that had been said. &#8220;He has manners, and
+he rides like an Englishman.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Say not so!&#8221; said Burr, laughing. &#8220;Better&mdash;he rides like a
+Virginian!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Very well; it is the same thing. The Virginians are but
+ourselves&mdash;this country is all English yet. And I swear&mdash;Mr. Burr, may
+we speak freely?&mdash;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&mdash;like you&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You know well enough how far I agree with you,&#8221; said Burr somberly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;Tis an experiment, our republic, I am willing to say that boldly to
+you, at least. How long it may last&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Depends on men like you,&#8221; said Merry, suddenly <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>turning upon him as
+they rode. &#8220;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&mdash;cooling our heels in your
+President&#8217;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It may be, Mr. Merry,&#8221; said Aaron Burr. &#8220;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,&#8221; he added, &#8220;whether
+those two young people really were together there at the old mill&mdash;and
+whether they were there for the first time.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If not, &#8217;twas not for the last time!&#8221; rejoined the older man. &#8220;Yonder
+young man was made to fill a woman&#8217;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How then, Mr. Minister?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;One for her father&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Aaron Burr bowed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, her father first, as I verily believe. What then?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The second for her husband&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Certainly. Mr. Alston is a rising man. He has a thousand slaves on
+his plantations&mdash;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&mdash;more than a
+chance. But after that?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The third portion of so charming a woman&#8217;s heart might perhaps be
+assigned to Captain Meriwether Lewis!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Say you so?&#8221; laughed Burr carelessly. &#8220;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&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why should she not? And why should she not ride with a gallant at
+sunrise for an early cup of coffee, egad?&#8221; 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&mdash;her face still cast down, her eyes
+gazing abstractedly into her untasted cup on the little
+table&mdash;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&#8217;s private
+servants, Samson, who took the young man&#8217;s rein, grinning with his
+usual familiar words of welcome as the secretary dismounted from his
+horse.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You-all suttinly did warm old Arcturum a li&#8217;l bit dis mawnin&#8217;, Mistah
+Mehywethah!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Samson patted the neck of the spirited animal, which tossed its head
+and turned an eye to its late rider.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&#8217;s hide
+he will cut off both your black ears for you, Samson&mdash;and very likely
+your head along with them. You know your master!&#8221; The secretary smiled
+kindly at the old black man.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yassah, yassah,&#8221; grinned Samson, who no more feared Mr. Jefferson
+than he did the young gentleman with whom he now spoke. &#8220;I just
+lookin&#8217; at you comin&#8217; down that path right now, and I say to myself,
+&#8216;Dar come a ridah!&#8217; I sho&#8217; did, Mistah Mehywethah!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The young man answered the negro&#8217;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&#8217;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&mdash;another of Mr. Jefferson&#8217;s plantation servants whom he had
+brought to Washington with him. Then&mdash;for such was the simple fashion
+of the m&eacute;nage, where Meriwether Lewis himself was one of the
+President&#8217;s family&mdash;he stepped to the door beyond and knocked lightly,
+entering as he did so.</p>
+
+<p>The hour was early&mdash;he himself had not breakfasted, beyond his coffee
+at the mill&mdash;but, early as it was, he knew he would find at his desk
+the gentleman who now turned to him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good morning, Mr. Jefferson,&#8221; 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>&#8220;Good morning, my son,&#8221; said the other man, gently, in his invariable
+address to his secretary. &#8220;And how did Arcturus perform for you this
+morning?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Grandly, sir. He is a fine animal. I have never ridden a better.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I envy you. I wish I could find the time I once had for my horses.&#8221;
+He turned a whimsical glance at the piled desk before him. &#8220;If our new
+multigraph could write a dozen letters all at once&mdash;and on as many
+different themes, my son&mdash;we might perhaps get through. I vow, if I
+had the money, I would have a dozen secretaries&mdash;if I could find
+them!&#8221;</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&mdash;indeed, scarce knew that they existed. To think,
+to feel, to create, to achieve&mdash;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&mdash;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>&#8220;I do not see how I could be President without you, Merne, my son,&#8221;
+said he, employing the familiar term that Meriwether Lewis had not
+elsewhere heard used, except by his mother. &#8220;Look what we must do
+today!&#8221;</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>&#8220;Mr. Jefferson&mdash;&#8221; 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>&#8220;Yes, my son?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Your burden is grievous hard, and yet&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, my son?&#8221;</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>&#8220;Come, come, my son,&#8221; said he, his own voice low and of a kindness it
+could assume at times. &#8220;You must not&mdash;you must not yield to this, I
+say. Shake off this melancholy which so obsesses you. I know whence it
+comes&mdash;your father gave it you, and you are not to blame; but you have
+more than your father&#8217;s strength to aid you. And you have me, your
+friend, who can understand.&#8221;</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>&#8220;What is it, Merne?&#8221; he demanded. &#8220;Tell me. Ah, you cannot tell? I
+know! &#8217;Tis the old melancholy, and something more, Merne, my boy. Tell
+me&mdash;ah, yes, it is a woman!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The young man did not speak.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have often told all my young friends,&#8221; said Mr. Jefferson slowly,
+after a time, &#8220;that they should marry not later than twenty-three&mdash;it
+is wrong to cheat the years of life&mdash;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&#8217;s face in his desk to haunt him. That will not do. We all
+have handicap enough without that.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>But still Meriwether could only look into the face of his superior.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know very well, my son,&#8221; the President continued. &#8220;I know it all.
+Put her out of your heart, my boy. Would you shame yourself&mdash;and
+her&mdash;and me?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No! Never would I do that, Mr. Jefferson, believe me. But now I must
+beg of you&mdash;please, sir, let me go soon&mdash;let it be at once!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The older man stood looking at him for a time in silence, as he went
+on hurriedly:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I must say good-by to you, best and noblest of men. Indeed, I have
+said good-by to&mdash;everything.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;As you say, your case is hopeless?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, sir.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I asked you when I was a boy to send me, but you could not then.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;no man knows what&mdash;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&mdash;you are ready to my
+hand as the instrument for this magnificent adventure. I cannot well
+spare you now&mdash;but yes, you must go!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>They stood there, two men who made our great adventure for
+us&mdash;vision-seers, vision-owned, gazing each into the other&#8217;s eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Send me now, Mr. Jefferson!&#8221; repeated Meriwether Lewis. &#8220;Send me now.
+I will mend to usefulness again. I will work for you all my life, if
+need be&mdash;and I want my name clear with you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The old man laid a kindly hand upon his shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I must yield you to your destiny,&#8221; said he. &#8220;It will be a great one.&#8221;
+He turned aside, a hand to his lip as he paced uncertainly. &#8220;But I
+still am wondering what our friends are doing yonder in France,&#8221; said
+he. &#8220;That is the question. Livingston, Monroe, and the others&mdash;what
+are they doing with Napoleon Bonaparte? The news from France&mdash;but
+stay,&#8221; he added. &#8220;Wait! I had forgotten. Come, we shall see about it!&#8221;</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&mdash;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>&#8220;Done!&#8221; 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>&#8220;I told them,&#8221; said he, &#8220;to loose a half-dozen birds at once. See!
+See!&#8221;</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&mdash;Fifteen millions&mdash;Rejoice!</p></div>
+
+<p>In no wider phrasing than that came the news of the great Louisiana
+Purchase, by virtue of which this republic&mdash;whether by chance, by
+result of greed warring with greed, or through the providence of
+Almighty God, who shall say?&mdash;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&#8217;s best, a hope for millions of the earth&#8217;s less
+fortunate&mdash;granary of the peoples, mint of the nations, birthplace and
+growing-ground of the new race of men&mdash;who could have measured that
+land then&mdash;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&#8217;s
+covenant with man&mdash;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>&#8220;Mr. Jefferson,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis, &#8220;this is your monument!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And yours,&#8221; was the reply. &#8220;Come, then!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He turned to the stairs, the pigeon still fondled in his arm. That
+bird&mdash;a white one, with slate-blue tips to its wings&mdash;never needed to
+labor again, for Mr. Jefferson kept it during its life, and long after
+its death.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Come now,&#8221; he said, as he began to descend the ladder once more. &#8220;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&mdash;the greatest of news that we could have.
+Yesterday&mdash;this morning&mdash;we were a young and weak republic. Tomorrow
+we shall be one of the powers of the world. Go, now&mdash;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Neither said anything further until once again they were in the
+President&#8217;s little office-room; but Thomas Jefferson&#8217;s eye now was
+afire.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I count this the most important enterprise in which this country ever
+was engaged,&#8221; he exclaimed, his hands clenched. &#8220;Yonder lies the
+greater America&mdash;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&mdash;you see it&mdash;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.&#8221;</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>&#8220;I give you my promise, Mr. Jefferson,&#8221; 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. &#8220;Mr. Jefferson,&#8221; ventured he, &#8220;you
+will pardon me&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, my son?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It grows late. You know that today the British minister, Mr. Merry,
+comes to meet the President for the first time formally&mdash;at dinner.
+Se&ntilde;or Yrujo also&mdash;and their ladies, of course. Mr. Burr and Mr. Merry
+seem already acquainted. I met them riding this morning.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hand and glove, then, so soon? What do you make of it? I have a guess
+that those three&mdash;Burr, Merry, Yrujo&mdash;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I thought perhaps I should go to my rooms to change for dinner. You
+see that I am still in riding-clothes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;And what of that, my son? I am in something worse!&#8221;</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&mdash;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>&#8220;You think I will not do?&#8221; Mr. Jefferson smiled at him frankly. &#8220;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Meriwether Lewis allowed himself a smile.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Go,&#8221; added his chief. &#8220;Garb yourself as I would have you&mdash;in your
+best. But there will be no precedence at table this evening&mdash;remember
+that! Let them take seats pell-mell&mdash;the devil take the hindmost&mdash;a
+fair field for every one, and favor to none! Seat them as nearly as
+possible as they should not be seated&mdash;and leave the rest to me. All
+these&mdash;indeed, all history and all the records&mdash;shall take me
+precisely as I am!&#8221;</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&mdash;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&#8217;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&#8217;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&#8217;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&mdash;a group evidently ill at ease and no longer in good humor.
+Meriwether Lewis made his way thither rapidly as he might.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is Mr. Minister Merry,&#8221; said he, &#8220;and Mme. Merry.&#8221; He bowed
+deeply. &#8220;Se&ntilde;or and Se&ntilde;ora Yrujo, I bring you the respects of Mr.
+Jefferson. He will be with us presently.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I had believed, sir&mdash;I understood,&#8221; began Merry explosively, &#8220;that we
+were to meet here the President of the United States. Where, then, is
+his suite?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We have no suite, sir. I represent the President as his aide.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My word!&#8221; 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="&#8220;&#8216;Mistah Thomas Jeffahson!&#8217; was his sole announcement&#8221;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&#8220;&#8216;Mistah Thomas Jeffahson!&#8217; was his sole announcement&#8221;</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>&#8220;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&mdash;or am I mistaken of the hour? Is it not
+four in the afternoon?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You were quite right, Mr. Minister,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis. &#8220;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.&#8221;</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>&#8220;Mistah Thomas Jeffahson!&#8221; 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&mdash;the same in which he had climbed
+to the pigeon loft&mdash;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&mdash;horror of horrors!&mdash;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>&#8220;Tell me,&#8221; demanded Mr. Merry, who&mdash;seeing that no other escort
+offered for her&mdash;had given his angry lady his own arm, &#8220;tell me, sir,
+where is the President? To whom shall I present the greetings of his
+British Majesty?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yonder is the President of the United States, sir,&#8221; said Meriwether
+Lewis. &#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Merry turned to his wife, and from her to the wife of the Spanish
+minister.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Impossible!&#8221; said he. &#8220;I do not understand&mdash;it cannot be! That
+man&mdash;that extraordinary man in breeches and slippers yonder&mdash;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;None the less he is, Mr. Merry!&#8221; the secretary assured him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good Heavens!&#8221; 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&mdash;none offering escort.</p>
+
+<p>Well disposed to smile at his chief&#8217;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&mdash;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&#8217;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&mdash;as a look at the
+sudden change of his features might have told&mdash;so did Mr. Jefferson&#8217;s
+aide.</p>
+
+<p>They advanced with dignity, these two&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;his enemies, men of the opposing political party,
+for the most part&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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 &#8220;deserted the victuals of his country.&#8221; 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&#8217;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">Hu&icirc;tres de Shinnecock, Saulce Temp&ecirc;te<br />
+Olives du Luc<br />
+Othon Marin&eacute; &agrave; l&#8217;Huile Vierge<br />
+Amandes et Cerneaux Sal&eacute;s<br />
+Pot au Feu du Roy &#8220;Henriot&#8221;<br />
+Croustade Mogador<br />
+Truite de Ruisselet, Belle Meuni&egrave;re<br />
+Pommes en Fines Herbes<br />
+Fricot de tendre Poulet en Coquemare, au Vieux Chanturgne<br />
+Tourte de Ris de Veau, Financi&egrave;re<br />
+Baron de Pr&eacute; Sal&eacute; aux Primeurs<br />
+Sorbet des Comtes de Champagne<br />
+Dinde Sauvage flamb&eacute;e devant les Sarments de Vigne,<br />
+flanqu&eacute;e d&#8217;Ortolans<br />
+Aspic de Foie Gras Lucullus<br />
+Salade des Nymphes &agrave; la Lamballe<br />
+Asperges Chauldes enduites de Sauce<br />
+Lombardienne<br />
+Dessert et Fruits de la R&eacute;union<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>Fromage de Bique<br />
+Caf&eacute; 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&mdash;vintages of rarity, selected as could have been
+done only by one of the nicest taste. Rumor had it that none other
+than Se&ntilde;or 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>&#8220;Upon my word!&#8221; said the sturdy Briton, turning to him. &#8220;Such wine I
+never have tasted! I did not expect it here&mdash;served by a host in
+breeches and slippers! But never mind&mdash;it is wonderful!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There may be many things here you have not expected, your
+excellency,&#8221; 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>&#8220;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&mdash;myself, my lady here, and these others. Is this the placing his
+Majesty&#8217;s minister should have at the President&#8217;s table? Is this what
+we should demand here?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The indignity is to all of us alike,&#8221; smiled Burr. &#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I shall report the entire matter to his Majesty&#8217;s government!&#8221; said
+Mr. Merry, again helping himself to wine. &#8220;To be received here by a
+man in his stable clothes&mdash;so to meet us when we come formally to pay
+our call to this government&mdash;that is an insult! I fancy it to be a
+direct and intentional one.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Insult is small word for it,&#8221; broke in the irate Spanish minister,
+still further down the table. &#8220;I certainly shall report to my own
+government what has happened here&mdash;of that be very sure!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Give me leave, sir,&#8221; continued Merry. &#8220;This republic, what is it?
+What has it done?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I ask as much,&#8221; affirmed Yrujo. &#8220;A small war with your own country,
+Great Britain, sir&mdash;in which only your generosity held you back&mdash;that
+is all this country can claim. In the South, my people own the mouth
+of the great river&mdash;we own Florida&mdash;we own the province of Texas&mdash;all
+the Southern and Western <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>lands. True, Louis XV&mdash;to save it from Great
+Britain, perhaps, sir&#8221;&mdash;he bowed to the British minister&mdash;&#8220;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Se&ntilde;or Yrujo helped himself to a brimming glass of his own wine.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I say that Western country is ours,&#8221; he still insisted, warming to
+his oration now. &#8220;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&mdash;those are the rights under which territories
+are annexed. France has the title to that West, but we hold the land
+itself&mdash;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Will Spain fight?&#8221; demanded a deep and melodious voice. It was that
+of Aaron Burr who spoke now, half in query, half in challenge. &#8220;Would
+Spain fight&mdash;and would Great Britain, if need were and the time came?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He spoke to men heated with wine, smarting under social indignity, men
+owning a hurt personal vanity.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Our past is proof enough,&#8221; 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>&#8220;Divide and conquer?&#8221; 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&#8217;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&mdash;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&mdash;at that moment, let us say, the Burr conspiracy began.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Divide that unknown country, the West, and how long would this
+republic endure?&#8221; 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>&#8220;What?&#8221; demanded Aaron Burr once more. &#8220;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, Se&ntilde;or 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&#8217;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Merry turned upon Burr suddenly a deep and estimating eye.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I begin to see,&#8221; said he, &#8220;that you are open to conviction, Mr.
+Burr.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not open to conviction,&#8221; said Aaron Burr, &#8220;but already convinced!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What do you mean, Colonel Burr?&#8221; The Englishman bent toward him,
+frowning in intentness.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Where, then, could we meet after this is over?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The minister from Great Britain surely was not beyond close and ready
+estimate of events.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;At my residence, after this dinner,&#8221; rejoined Aaron Burr instantly.
+His eye did not waver as it looked into the other&#8217;s, but blazed with
+all the fire of his own soul. &#8220;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?&#8221;</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&mdash;perhaps this was his own revenge for a
+reception he once had had at London. But at last he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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.&#8221;</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>&#8220;May God in His own power punish me,&#8221; said he, solemnly, &#8220;if ever I
+halt or falter in what I believe to be my duty! I place no bounds to
+the future of this republic&mdash;based, as I firmly believe it to be, upon
+the enduring principle of the just and even rights of mankind.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;that is to say, in 1783&mdash;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>&#8220;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>&#8220;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&mdash;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&mdash;indeed, to the
+west of the Mississippi itself&mdash;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.&#8221;</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>&#8220;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,&#8221; went on Thomas Jefferson. &#8220;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.&#8221;</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>&#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>With wonder, doubt, and, indeed, a certain perturbation at the
+President&#8217;s unexpected summons, the young Virginian rose to his feet
+and stood gazing questioningly at his chief.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know your modesty as well as your courage, Captain Lewis,&#8221; smiled
+Mr. Jefferson. &#8220;You may be seated, sir, since now we all know you.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;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&mdash;the most cherished enterprise of my administration&mdash;to him
+whom now you have seen here before you.&#8221;</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>&#8220;And now for my news,&#8221; he said at length. &#8220;Here you have it!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He waved once more the little scrap of paper.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;the
+dove of peace, I trust. Let me explain briefly; what my news concerns.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;As you know, that new country yonder belonged at first to any one who
+might find it&mdash;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&mdash;indeed, virgin territory so far as
+definite title was concerned.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;supposing that she owned them&mdash;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&mdash;until but
+now.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;the empire of humanity&mdash;a land in which democracy,
+humanity, shall expand and grow forever! This is my news:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>&#8220;General Bonaparte signed May 2&mdash;Fifteen millions&mdash;Rejoice!&#8221;</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&mdash;many&mdash;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&#8217;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>&#8220;I have given you my news,&#8221; the voice of Mr. Jefferson went on, rising
+now, vibrant and masterful, fearless, compelling. &#8220;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>&#8220;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&mdash;triumph and flourish while governments shall remain
+known among men.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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>&#8220;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&mdash;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&mdash;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>&#8220;My heart&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;the country of my dream and his. It is
+no longer the country of any other power&mdash;it is our own!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Gentlemen, I give you a toast&mdash;Captain Meriwether Lewis!&#8221;</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&#8217;s
+withdrawal, the crowd&mdash;it could be called little else&mdash;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>&#8220;Do you forget your friends so soon? I must add my good wishes. It was
+splendid, what Mr. Jefferson said&mdash;and it was true!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I wish it might be true,&#8221; said the young man. &#8220;I wish I might be
+worthy of such a man.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are worthy of us all,&#8221; returned Theodosia.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;People are kind to the condemned,&#8221; 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>&#8220;My dear,&#8221; said Mr. Merry to his irate spouse, &#8220;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.&#8221;</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>&#8220;You say right, gentlemen, both of you,&#8221; he began, leaning forward. &#8220;I
+would not blame you if you never went to the White House again.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Should I ever do so again,&#8221; blazed the Spanish minister, &#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;As much myself, sir!&#8221; said Mr. Merry, his brows contracted, his face
+flushed still with anger. &#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So much for the rule of the plain people!&#8221; said Burr, as he laid the
+tips of his fingers together contemplatively.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yet, Colonel Burr, you are Vice-President under this administration!&#8221;
+broke out Merry.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;Louisiana&mdash;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&mdash;in spite of what all
+these people say.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sir,&#8221; said the British minister, &#8220;you have been a student of
+affairs.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;<i>but not under the flag of this republic!</i>&#8221;</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&#8217;s
+colleague, Vice-President of the United States.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You cannot force geography,&#8221; resumed Burr, in tones as even as if he
+had but spoken of bartering for a house and lot. &#8220;Lower Louisiana and
+Mexico together&mdash;yes, perhaps. Florida, with us&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You will explain more fully, Colonel Burr?&#8221; Mr. Merry was intent now
+on all that he heard.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I march only with destiny, yonder&mdash;do you not see, gentlemen?&#8221; Burr
+resumed. &#8220;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&#8217;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&mdash;owning the lands in Canada on the north&mdash;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.&#8221;</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>&#8220;I know what is in your minds, gentlemen. The one thing which troubles
+you is this&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What you say, Mr. Burr,&#8221; began Merry gravely, &#8220;assuredly has the
+merit of audacity. And I see that you have given it thought.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;let me tell you that. I know my men from
+St. Louis to New Orleans&mdash;I know my leaders&mdash;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?&#8221;</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>&#8220;My son-in-law, Mr. Alston, of South Carolina&mdash;a very wealthy planter
+of that State&mdash;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&#8217;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So, then,&#8221; began Yrujo, &#8220;the financing is somewhat forward! But fifty
+thousand is only a drop.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We may as well be plain,&#8221; rejoined Burr. &#8220;Time is short&mdash;you know
+that it is short. We all heard what Mr. Jefferson said&mdash;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&mdash;and who can
+say what that young Virginian may do?&mdash;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&mdash;and yours.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Your funds,&#8221; said Mr. Merry, &#8220;seem to me inadequate for the demands
+which will be made upon them. You said fifty thousand?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p><p>Burr nodded.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I pledge you as much more&mdash;on one condition that I shall name.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Burr turned from Mr. Merry to Se&ntilde;or Yrujo. The latter nodded.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I undertake to contribute the same amount,&#8221; said the envoy of Spain,
+&#8220;but with no condition attached.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The color deepened in the cheek of the great conspirator. His eye
+glittered a trifle more brilliantly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You named a certain condition, sir,&#8221; he said to Merry.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, one entirely obvious.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What is it, then, your excellency?&#8221; Burr inquired.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You yourself have made it plain. The infernal ingenuity of yonder
+Corsican&mdash;curse his devilish brain!&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;as
+Mr. Jefferson plans so boldly&mdash;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&mdash;he knows how to sacrifice a pawn in order to checkmate a
+king!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Yes, your excellency,&#8221; said Burr, &#8220;I agree with you, but&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And now my condition. Follow me closely. I say if that wedge is
+driven home&mdash;if that expedition of Mr. Jefferson&#8217;s shall succeed&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Burr nodded, his lips compressed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;and there will be no chance left for Colonel Burr and his
+friends!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All that your excellency has said tallies entirely with our own
+beliefs,&#8221; rejoined Burr. &#8220;But what then? What is the condition?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Simply this&mdash;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&mdash;too late for
+us&mdash;too late for you and your plan, Mr. Burr. I want that man! We must
+have him with us!&#8221;</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>&#8220;You open up a singular train of thought for me, your excellency,&#8221;
+said he at length. &#8220;He does belong with us, that young Virginian!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You know him, then?&#8221; inquired the British minister. &#8220;That is to say,
+you know him well?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Perfectly. Why should I not? He nearly was my son-in-law. Egad! Give
+him two weeks more, and he might have been&mdash;he got the news of my
+daughter&#8217;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How, then?&#8221; inquired Merry.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The way of a woman with a man may always be the answer in matters of
+that sort!&#8221; said Aaron Burr.</p>
+
+<p>The three sat and looked each at the other for some time without
+comment.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I find Colonel Burr&#8217;s brain active in all ways!&#8221; began Se&ntilde;or Yrujo
+dryly. &#8220;Now I confess that he goes somewhat in advance of mine.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Listen,&#8221; said Aaron Burr. &#8220;What Mr. Jefferson said of Captain Lewis
+is absolutely true&mdash;his will has never been known to relax or weaken.
+Once resolved, he cannot change&mdash;I will not say he does not, but that
+he cannot.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then even the unusual weapon you suggest might not avail!&#8221; Mr.
+Merry&#8217;s smile was not altogether pleasant.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Women would listen to him readily, I think,&#8221; remarked Yrujo.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Gallant in his way, yes,&#8221; said Burr.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then what do you mean by saying something about the way of a woman
+with a man?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Only that it is the last remaining opportunity for us,&#8221; rejoined
+Aaron Burr. &#8220;The appeal to his senses&mdash;of course, we will set that
+aside. The appeal to his chivalry&mdash;that is better! The appeal to his
+ambition&mdash;that is less, but might be used. The appeal to his
+sympathy&mdash;the wish to be generous with the woman who has not been
+generous with him, for the reason that she could not be&mdash;here again
+you have another argument which we may claim as possible.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You reason well,&#8221; said Merry. &#8220;But while men are mortal, yonder, if I
+mistake not, is a gentleman.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Precisely,&#8221; said Burr. &#8220;If we ask him to resign his expedition we are
+asking him to alter all his loyalty to his chief&mdash;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&#8217;s husband&mdash;in case it came to that&mdash;than he
+would be disloyal to the orders of his chief.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Fie! Fie!&#8221; said Yrujo, serving himself with wine from a decanter on
+the table. &#8220;All men are mortal. I agree with your first proposition,
+Colonel Burr, that the safest argument with a man&mdash;with a young man
+especially, and such a young man&mdash;is a woman&mdash;and such a woman!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;One thing is sure,&#8221; rejoined Burr, flushing. &#8220;That man will succeed
+unless some woman induces him to change&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Burr added this last virtuously, and Mr. Merry bowed deeply in return.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This is not only honorable of you, Colonel Burr, but logical.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That means some sort of sacrifice for him,&#8221; suggested Yrujo
+presently. &#8220;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We have left out of our accounting one factor,&#8221; said Burr after a
+time.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What, then?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;One factor, I repeat, we have overlooked,&#8221; said Burr. &#8220;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&mdash;nor any soul more filled with ambition!
+She believes in her father absolutely&mdash;will use every resource of her
+own to upbuild her father&#8217;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: &#8216;My daughter, your father&#8217;s
+success, his life, his fortune&mdash;the life and fortune and success of
+your husband as well&mdash;depend upon one event, depend upon you and your
+ability to stop yonder expedition of Captain Meriwether Lewis into the
+Missouri country!&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;When could we learn?&#8221; demanded the British minister.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I cannot say how long a time it may take,&#8221; Burr replied. &#8220;I promise
+you that my daughter shall have a personal interview with Captain
+Lewis before he starts for the West.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But he starts at dawn!&#8221; smiled Minister Merry.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The British minister was businesslike and definite.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;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&mdash;a half-million more when needed.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The dark eye of Aaron Burr flashed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then,&#8221; said he firmly, &#8220;success will meet our efforts&mdash;I guarantee
+it! I pledge all my personal fortune, my friends, my family, to the
+last member.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am for my country,&#8221; said Mr. Merry simply. &#8220;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&mdash;if at the very start we can divide
+the forces which might later be allied against us&mdash;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;You understand my plan,&#8221; said Aaron Burr. &#8220;Reduced to the least
+common denominator, Meriwether Lewis and my daughter Theodosia have
+our fate in their hands.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The others rose. The hour was past midnight. The secret conference had
+been a long one.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He starts tomorrow&mdash;is that sure?&#8221; asked Merry.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;As the clock,&#8221; rejoined Burr. &#8220;She must see him before the breakfast
+hour.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My compliments, Colonel Burr. Good night!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good night, sir,&#8221; added Yrujo. &#8220;It has been a strange day.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Secrecy, gentlemen, secrecy! I hope soon to have more news for you,
+and good news, too. <i>Au revoir!</i>&#8221;</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>&#8220;Go at once to Mrs. Alston&#8217;s rooms, Charles,&#8221; said he to the servant.
+&#8220;Tell her to rise and come to me at once. Tell her not to wait. Do you
+hear?&#8221;</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>&#8220;What is it, father&mdash;are you ill?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Far from it, my child,&#8221; said he, turning with head erect. &#8220;I am
+alive, well, and happier than I have been for months&mdash;years. I need
+you&mdash;come, sit here and listen to me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He caught her to him with a swift, paternal embrace&mdash;he loved no
+mortal being as he did his daughter&mdash;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&mdash;except the
+truth. And Aaron Burr knew how to gild falsehood itself until it
+seemed the truth.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now you have it, my dear,&#8221; said he. &#8220;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&mdash;I am lawyer
+enough to know that&mdash;which will make it possible for Congress to
+ratify the purchase of Louisiana. We cannot carve new States from that
+country&mdash;it is already settled by the subjects of another government.
+Hence the expedition of Mr. Lewis must fail&mdash;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>&#8220;But as to the Mississippi Valley, matters are entirely different.
+There is no law against that country&#8217;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&mdash;men like Captain Lewis, for instance. Should one
+ally one&#8217;s self with a foredoomed failure? Not at all. I prefer rather
+success&mdash;station, rank, power, money, for myself, if you please. With
+us&mdash;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&mdash;for the undertaking of yonder impracticable and chimerical
+expedition, twenty-five hundred dollars! Which enterprise, think you,
+will win?</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But, on the other hand, if that expedition of Mr. Jefferson&#8217;s should
+succeed by virtue of accident, or of good leadership, all my plans
+must fail&mdash;that is plain. It comes, therefore, to this, Theo, and I
+may tell you plainly&mdash;Captain Lewis must be seen&mdash;he must be
+stopped&mdash;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&#8217;s future&mdash;and that one, my daughter, is&mdash;you!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He caught Theodosia&#8217;s look of surprise, her start, the swift flush on
+her cheek&mdash;and laughed lightly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Let me explain. Aaron Burr and all his family&mdash;all his friends&mdash;will
+reach swift advancement in yonder new government. Power, place&mdash;these
+are the things that strong men covet. That is what the game of
+politics means for strong men&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It seems that you value him more now than once you did.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;I admit it frankly&mdash;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&mdash;Mr. Jefferson sees it&mdash;he is a good chooser of
+men. But Captain Lewis must not advance beyond the Ohio. That is a
+large task for a woman.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What woman, father?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A flush came to her pale cheek. Her father turned to her directly, his
+own piercing gaze aflame.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There is but one woman on earth could do that, my daughter! That
+young man&#8217;s fate was settled when he looked on that woman&mdash;when he
+looked on you!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She swiftly turned her head aside, not answering.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Am I so engaged in affairs that I cannot see the obvious, my dear?&#8221;
+went on the vibrant voice. &#8220;Had I no eyes for what went on at my side
+this very evening, at Mr. Jefferson&#8217;s dinner-table? Could I fail to
+observe his look to you&mdash;and, yes, am I not sensible to what your eyes
+said to him in reply?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do you believe that of me&mdash;and you my father?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I believe nothing dishonorable of you, my dear,&#8221; said Burr. &#8220;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&mdash;know you wish well for his ambition, his success&mdash;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;There would be prospects for him?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&#8217;s money, but Lewis&#8217;s brains and courage! They both love
+you&mdash;do I not know?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Troubled, again she turned her gaze aside.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Listen, my daughter. That young man is wise&mdash;he has no such vast
+belief in yonder expedition. He is going in desperation, to escape a
+memory! Is it not true? Tell me&mdash;and believe that I am not blind&mdash;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Still her downcast eye gave him no reply.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;we fight with the stars in their courses, and not against them.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now, you have two pictures, my dear&mdash;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&mdash;condemned to that by yourself, my dear&mdash;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&mdash;he might forgive. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span>Yonder he will
+forsake his manhood&mdash;he will relax his ideals, and go down, step by
+step, until he shall not think of you again.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There are two pictures, my daughter. Which do you prefer&mdash;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&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Could it be possible,&#8221; she began at length, half musing, &#8220;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&mdash;and
+from myself?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What can I do, father?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You have called me for a strange errand, father,&#8221; said Theodosia
+Alston, at length. &#8220;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&mdash;you are its sworn servant, its high official.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Treachery? No, it is statesmanship, it is service to mankind!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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.&#8221;</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>&#8220;Theodosia,&#8221; said he, &#8220;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,&#8221; he added, passing a hand across
+his forehead.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There will be no more sleep for me tonight,&#8221; was her reply.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You will see him in the morning?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</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&mdash;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>&#8220;Yonder it lies, Captain Lewis!&#8221; said Mr. Jefferson at length. &#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The President tapped a long forefinger on the map.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This, then,&#8221; he went on, &#8220;is your country. Find it out&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Meriwether Lewis listened in silence. Mr. Jefferson turned to another
+branch of his theme.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I fancy that some time there will be a canal built across the isthmus
+that binds this continent to the one below&mdash;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&mdash;discover it&mdash;it is our new world.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A few must think for the many,&#8221; he went on. &#8220;I had to smuggle this
+appropriation through Congress&mdash;twenty-five hundred dollars&mdash;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&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Indeed, the sun was rising over Washington, the mists of morning were
+reeking along the banks of the Potomac.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can start in half an hour,&#8221; replied Meriwether Lewis.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Are your men ready, your supplies gathered together?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The rendezvous is at Harper&#8217;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Spoken like a soldier! It is in your hands. Go then!&#8221;</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&mdash;for always Meriwether
+Lewis was immaculate&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;the &#8220;possible sack&#8221; <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&mdash;to his mother&mdash;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&#8217;s weapon
+on his arm&mdash;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&mdash;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>&#8220;Mrs. Alston!&#8221; he exclaimed, as the carriage came up. &#8220;Why are you
+here? Is there any news?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, else I could not have come.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But why have you come? Tell me!&#8221;</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>&#8220;Pardon me,&#8221; said he, and his voice was cold; &#8220;I thought I had cut all
+ties.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Knit them again for my sake, then, Meriwether Lewis! I have brought
+you a summons to return.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A summons? From whom?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My father&mdash;Mr. Merry&mdash;Se&ntilde;or Yrujo. They were at our home all night.
+We could not&mdash;they could not&mdash;I could not&mdash;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&#8217;s pride drive you!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She was excited, half sobbing.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It does drive me, indeed,&#8221; said he simply. &#8220;I am under orders&mdash;I am
+the leader of this expedition of my government. I do not
+understand&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;At this hour&mdash;on this errand&mdash;only one motive could have brought me!
+It is your interest. Oh, it is not for myself&mdash;it is for your future.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why did you come thus, unattended? There is something you are
+concealing. Tell me!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ah, you are harsh&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You speak well! Go on.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;England is with us, and Spain&mdash;they back my father&#8217;s plans.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He turned now and raised a hand.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Plans? What plans? I must warn you, I am pledged to my own country&#8217;s
+service.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Is not my father also? He is one of the highest officers in the
+government of this country.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You may tell me more or not, as you like.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There is little more to tell,&#8221; said she. &#8220;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&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He sat motionless, looking straight ahead, as she went on.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;that they would give you splendid opportunity. With men
+such as these, that means a swift future of success for one&mdash;for
+one&mdash;whom I shall always cherish warmly in my heart.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The color was full in her face. He turned toward her suddenly, his eye
+clouded.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is an extraordinary matter in every way which you bring for me,&#8221;
+he said slowly; &#8220;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;oh, what shall I
+say?&mdash;which I have always felt for you&mdash;the regard&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Regard! What do you mean?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I did not mean regard, but the&mdash;the wish to see you succeed, to help
+you, if I could, to take your place among men. I told you that but
+yesterday.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She was all confusion now. He seemed pitiless.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have listened long enough to have my curiosity aroused. I shall
+have somewhat to ponder&mdash;on the trail to the West.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then you mean that you will go on?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You do not understand&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;what is your
+country? You have no heart&mdash;that I know well; but I credited you with
+the brain and the ambition of a man!&#8221;</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>&#8220;Think you that I would have come here for any other man?&#8221; she
+demanded. &#8220;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&mdash;even for me!&#8221;</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>&#8220;Theodosia,&#8221; said he, &#8220;it is hard for me not to do anything you ask of
+me&mdash;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&mdash;my men are waiting for
+me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>This time he did not turn back again.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>Colonel Burr&#8217;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&#8217;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>&#8220;You have failed!&#8221; said he.</p>
+
+<p>She raised her dark eyes to his, herself silent, mournful.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What did he say?&#8221; demanded Burr.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Said he was under orders&mdash;said you should go to Mr. Jefferson with
+your plan&mdash;said Mr. Jefferson alone could stop him. Failed? Yes, I
+failed!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You failed,&#8221; said Burr, &#8220;because you did not use the right argument
+with him. The next time <i>you must not fail</i>. You must use better
+arguments!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Theodosia stood motionless for an instant, looking at her father, then
+passed back into the house.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Listen, my daughter,&#8221; said Burr at length, in his eye a light that
+she never had known before. &#8220;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&mdash;penniless upon the streets, do you hear?&mdash;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&mdash;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>&mdash;do you understand?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sir,&#8221; said his daughter, &#8220;I think&mdash;I think I do not understand!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He seemed not to hear her&mdash;or to toss her answer aside.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You must try again,&#8221; said he, &#8220;and with the right weapons&mdash;the old
+ones, my dear&mdash;the old weapons of a woman!&#8221;</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&#8217;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&#8217;s work. He was writing in a fine, delicate hand&mdash;legible to this
+day&mdash;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&mdash;even to the gratuities he expended
+in traveling and entertainment. We find, for instance, that &#8220;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.&#8221; 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&mdash;and he
+was wrong ten cents in his addition of the total! In his own hand he
+sets down &#8220;A View of the Consumption of Butchers&#8217; Meat from September
+6, 1801, to June 12, 1802.&#8221; 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&mdash;plantation</td>
+<td align="right">2,226.45</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">&#8220;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &mdash;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&mdash;lands bought</td>
+<td align="right">2,156.86</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">&#8220;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &mdash;buildings</span></td>
+<td align="right">3,567.92</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">&#8220;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &mdash;carriages</span></td>
+<td align="right">363.75</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">&#8220;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &mdash;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&#8217;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&mdash;begun soon after I came home
+to live from Philadelphia.</p>
+
+<p>Agreed with Robt. Chuning to serve me as overseer at
+Monticello for &pound;25 and 600 lb. pork. He is to come Dec. 1.</p>
+
+<p>Agreed with &mdash;&mdash; 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&mdash;The first shad at this market today.</p>
+
+<p>March 28&mdash;The weeping willow shows the green leaf.</p>
+
+<p>April 9&mdash;Asparagus come to table.</p>
+
+<p>April 10&mdash;Apricots blossom.</p>
+
+<p>April 12&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;8 lb. cost 1.6.</p>
+
+<p>May 18&mdash;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&#8217;s life records.</p>
+
+<p>Why should we care to note his curious concern over details? The
+answer to that question is this&mdash;obviously, Thomas Jefferson&#8217;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&#8217;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&mdash;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
+&#8220;a lady wantin&#8217; to see Mistah Jeffahson.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Who is she, Henry?&#8221; inquired the President of the United States
+mildly. &#8220;I am somewhat busy today.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;Tain&#8217;t no diff&#8217;rence, she say&mdash;she sho&#8217;ly want see Mistah
+Jeffahson.&#8221;</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&#8217;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>&#8220;My dear,&#8221; said he, &#8220;you will pardon our confusion here, I am sure.
+There are many matters&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know it is an intrusion, Mr. Jefferson,&#8221; began <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span>Theodosia Alston
+again, her face flushing swiftly. &#8220;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,&#8221; she added impulsively, as she caught sight of his
+haggard face.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I was not so fortunate as to find time for sleep last night.&#8221; He
+smiled again with humorous, half twisted mouth.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nor was I.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Tut, tut! No, no, my dear, that sort of thing will not do.&#8221; He looked
+at her in silence for some time. &#8220;Perhaps, my dear,&#8221; said he at last,
+&#8220;you come regarding Captain Lewis?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How did you know?&#8221; she exclaimed, startled.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why should I not know?&#8221; He pushed his chair so close that he might
+lay a hand upon her arm. &#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She was looking straight into his face, her eyes mournful.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I was glad to send him away, sorely as I miss him. But then, you
+said, you come to me about him?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, after he is gone&mdash;knowing all that you say&mdash;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&mdash;that is to say, we might have
+been&mdash;ah, sir, how can I speak?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You need not speak, my dear, I know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I shall be faithful to my husband, Mr. Jefferson.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The old man nodded.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;for any cause?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In turn she laid a small hand upon the President&#8217;s arm.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Only for himself&mdash;for that reason alone, Mr. Jefferson, and not to
+change your plans&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What is it, Theodosia?&#8221; he said quietly. &#8220;I do not grasp all this.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Able men say that this government cannot take advantage of the sale
+of Louisiana to us by Napoleon&mdash;that our Constitution prevents our
+taking over a foreign territory already populated to make into new
+States of our own&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good, my learned counsel&mdash;say on!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Forgive my weak wit&mdash;I only try to say this as I heard it, well and
+plainly.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;As well as any man, my dear! Go on.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And perhaps by certain of my own party not Federalists&mdash;by Colonel
+Aaron Burr, for instance!&#8221; Thomas Jefferson smiled grimly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes!&#8221; She spoke firmly and with courage.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I saw him this very morning&mdash;I took my reputation in my hands&mdash;I
+followed him&mdash;I urged him, I implored him to stop!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes? And did he?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She did not reply. After a time the President went on gently:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My dear, would you wish him to come back&mdash;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She drew up proudly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What benefit, indeed, to me? Do you think I would ask this for
+myself? No, it was for <i>him</i>&mdash;it was for <i>his</i> welfare only that I
+dared to come to you. And you will not hear new evidence?&#8221;</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>&#8220;Madam,&#8221; said he, coldly, &#8220;in this office we do a thing but once. Had
+I condemned yonder young man to his death&mdash;and perhaps I have&mdash;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&mdash;yes, and grieve over you
+both; but what is written is written.&#8221;</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>&#8220;You would not hear what was the actual cause of my wish for him&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, my dear! We have made our plans.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There are other plans afoot these days, Mr. Jefferson.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;nay,
+no reward to any other human being&mdash;shall stop his advancement in that
+purpose which he shares with me. If he fails, I fail with him&mdash;and all
+my life as well!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She rose now, calm before the imperious quality of his nature, so
+unlike his former gentleness.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You refuse, then, Mr. Jefferson? You will not reopen this case?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I refuse nothing to you gladly, my dear lady. But you have seen
+him&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly he saw the tears in her eyes. At once he was back again, the
+courteous gentleman.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do not weep, Theodosia, my child,&#8221; said he. &#8220;Let me kiss you, as your
+father or your grandfather would&mdash;one who holds you tenderly in his
+heart. Forgive me that I pass sentence on you both, but you must
+part&mdash;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&mdash;and let us all go on
+about our duties in the world. My dear, good-by! You must go.&#8221;</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&#8217;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&#8217;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&mdash;had Napoleon
+ever done otherwise than to cede Louisiana to us&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;good news, fortunate news, joyous news&mdash;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&#8217;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&#8217;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, &amp; I send this by special bote up the
+river to mete you at Pts&#8217;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&mdash;I accept not because of the Rank, which is no moving
+consideration, eather for you or for me&mdash;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&#8217;n, I remain,</p>
+
+<p class="left1">Your friend,</p>
+
+<p class="left3"><span class="smcap">Wm. Clark.</span></p>
+
+<p>P. S.&mdash;God alone knows how mutch this all may mean to You
+and me, Merne&mdash;<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>&#8220;What is it, my son?&#8221; said he. &#8220;Did you wish to see me?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The boy advanced, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You do not know me, sir. My name is Shannon&mdash;George Shannon. I used
+to know you when you were stationed here with the army. I was a boy
+then.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are right&mdash;I remember you perfectly. So you are grown into a
+strapping young man, I see!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The boy twirled his cap in his hands.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I want to go along with you, Captain,&#8221; said he shyly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What? You would go with me&mdash;do you know what is our journey?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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. &#8217;Tis
+too quiet here for me&mdash;I want to see the world with you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The young leader, after his fashion, stood silently regarding the
+other for a time. An instant served him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Very well, George,&#8221; said he. &#8220;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.&#8221;</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>&#8220;What, is it, George?&#8221; he asked at length, looking up.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Someone waiting to see you, sir&mdash;they are in the parlor. They sent
+me&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;They? Who are they?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know, sir. She asked me to come for you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She. Who is she?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know, sir. She spoke to her father. They are in the room just
+across the hall, sir.&#8221;</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&mdash;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>&#8220;Why are you here?&#8221; he asked at length.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My father and I are on a journey down the river to visit Mr.
+Blennerhasset on his island. You know his castle there?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why is it that you always come to torment me the more? Another day
+and I should have been gone!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Torment you, sir?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You rebuke me properly. I presume I should have courage to meet you
+always&mdash;to speak with you&mdash;to look into your eyes&mdash;to take your hands
+in mine. But I find it hard, terribly hard! Each time it is
+worse&mdash;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She made no reply. He fought for his self-control.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Jefferson, how is he?&#8221; he demanded at length. &#8220;You left him
+well?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Unchangeable as flint. You said that only the order of your chief
+could change your plans. I sought to gain that order&mdash;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&#8217;s command. You find
+it hard! Do you think this is not hard for me also?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;to try to forget what I
+hold most dear!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You shall not leave my face behind you, Captain Lewis!&#8221; she said
+suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What do you mean, Theodosia? What is it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You shall see me every night under the stars, Meriwether Lewis. I
+will not let you go. I will not relinquish you!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He turned swiftly toward her, but paused as if caught back by some
+mighty hand.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What is it?&#8221; he said once more, half in a whisper. &#8220;What do you mean?
+Would you ruin me? Would you see me go to ruin?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;you have awakened some
+feeling of what images a woman may make in a man&#8217;s heart. I have been
+no more to you than any woman is to any man&mdash;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Can you fancy what all this means to me?&#8221; he broke out hoarsely.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I can fancy. And what for me? So much my feeling for you has
+been&mdash;oh, call it what you like&mdash;admiration, affection, maternal
+tenderness&mdash;I do not know what&mdash;but so much have I wished, so much
+have I planned for your future in return for what you have given
+me&mdash;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&mdash;what do you think that costs
+me?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;And yet you upbraid me when I say I cannot give you up to any fate
+but that of happiness and success&mdash;oh, not with me, for that is beyond
+us two&mdash;it is past forever. But happiness&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There are some words that burn deep,&#8221; he said slowly. &#8220;I know that I
+was not made for happiness.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Does a woman&#8217;s wish mean nothing to you? Have I no appeal for you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Something like a sob was torn from his bosom.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You can speak thus with me?&#8221; he said huskily. &#8220;If you cannot leave me
+happiness, can you not at least leave me partial peace of mind?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She stood slightly swaying, silent.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;let me go yonder into the
+wilderness, where I may be a gentleman!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He saw her movement as she turned, heard her sigh.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sometimes,&#8221; she said, &#8220;I have thought it worth a woman&#8217;s life thrown
+away that a strong man may succeed. Failure and sacrifice a woman may
+offer&mdash;not much more. But it is as my father told me!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He told you what?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That only chivalry would ever make you forget your duty&mdash;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!&#8221;</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;">&#8220;</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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It was midnight. For more than an hour Meriwether Lewis had sat, his
+head drooped, in silence.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We are going to start?&#8221; Shannon&#8217;s face lightened eagerly. &#8220;We&#8217;ll be
+off at sunup?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Before that. Get the men&mdash;we&#8217;ll start now! I&#8217;ll meet you at the
+wharf.&#8221;</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>&#8220;All&#8217;s aboard, sir,&#8221; said he. &#8220;Shall we cast off?&#8221;</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>&#8220;Hello, there!&#8221; called a voice through the darkness, after a time.
+&#8220;Who goes there?&#8221;</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>&#8220;Ahoy there, the boat!&#8221; insisted the same voice.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;I can lick the best of yez in three minutes, or me name&#8217;s not
+Patrick Gass!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The captain of the boat turned slowly in his seat, casting a glance
+over his silent crew.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Set in!&#8221; 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&mdash;as he was by all of his men&mdash;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>&#8220;Who hailed us?&#8221; demanded the latter shortly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Begorrah, &#8217;twas me,&#8221; 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>&#8220;&#8217;Twas me hailed yez, and what of it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That is what I came ashore to learn,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis. &#8220;We are
+about our business. What concern is that of yours? I am here to
+learn.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yez can learn, if ye&#8217;re so anxious,&#8221; replied the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>other. &#8220;&#8217;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,
+&#8217;tis no fighting man ye are, an&#8217; I&#8217;ll say that to your face!&#8221;</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&mdash;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&mdash;the
+swift act of their leader, without threat, without warning&mdash;the
+instant readiness of the others to back their leader&#8217;s
+initiative&mdash;caught every one of these rude fighting men in the sudden
+grip of surprise. They hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am no fighting man,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis, turning to them; &#8220;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?&#8221;</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>&mdash;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>&#8220;An officer, did ye say?&#8221; said he. &#8220;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&#8217;re an officer and a gintleman,
+whoever ye be. I&#8217;d like to shake hands with ye!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am not shaking hands with ruffians who insult travelers,&#8221; 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. &#8220;There, man,&#8221; said he, &#8220;since you
+seem to mean well!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He shook hands with his opponent, who, stung by the rebuke, now began
+to sniffle.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sor,&#8221; said he, &#8220;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&#8217;t give to me parents I&#8217;ve
+spint like a man. I have had me fling for awhile, and I&#8217;m goin&#8217; 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&mdash;&#8217;twas only the whisky made me feel sportin&#8217; like at the time,
+do ye mind?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Gass, Patrick Gass, you said?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yis, sor, of the Tinth. Barrin&#8217; me love for fightin&#8217; I am a good
+soldier. There are stripes on me sleeves be rights, but me old coat&#8217;s
+hangin&#8217; in the barracks down below.&#8221;</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>&#8220;You say the Tenth?&#8221; said he briefly. &#8220;You have been with the colors?
+Look here, my man, do you want to serve?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;I am going right back to Kaskasky for it, sor.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why not enlist with us? I need men. We are off for the West, up the
+Missouri&mdash;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I could not say, sor. I would have to ask leave at Kaskasky. I gave
+me word I&#8217;d come back after I&#8217;d had me fling here in the East, ye
+see.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll take care of that. I have full authority to recruit among
+enlisted men.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Excuse me, sor, ye are sayin&#8217; ye are goin&#8217; up the Missouri? Then I
+know yez&mdash;yez are the Captain Lewis that has been buildin&#8217; the big
+boat the last two months up at the yards&mdash;Captain Lewis from
+Washington.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, and from the Ohio country before then&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll need not the half of two!&#8221; rejoined Patrick Gass promptly. &#8220;Give
+me leave of my captain, and I am with yez! There is nothin&#8217; in the
+world I&#8217;d liever see than the great plains and the buffalo. &#8217;Tis fond
+of travel I am, and I&#8217;d like to see the ind of the world before I
+die.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You will come as near seeing the end of it with us as anywhere else I
+know,&#8221; rejoined Lewis quietly. &#8220;Get your war-bag and come aboard.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In this curious fashion Patrick Gass of the army&mdash;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&mdash;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&#8217;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>&#8220;I have nothing to complain of,&#8221; said Patrick Gass, addressing his new
+friends impartially, as he shifted his belongings to suit him and took
+his place at a rowing seat. &#8220;I have nothing to complain of. I&#8217;ve been
+sayin&#8217; I would like to have one more rale fight before I enlisted&mdash;the
+army is too tame for a fellow of rale spirit. None o&#8217; thim at the camp
+yonder, where I was two days, would take it on with me after the first
+day. I was fair longin&#8217; for something to interest me&mdash;and be jabers, I
+found it! Now I am continted to ind me vacation and come back to the
+monothony of business life.&#8221;</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&mdash;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&mdash;even that rare muscle over the hip beloved of the ancients,
+but now forgotten of sculptors, because rarely seen on a man today&mdash;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>&#8220;George,&#8221; said he to young Shannon, &#8220;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. &#8217;Tis wonder he didn&#8217;t
+kill me&mdash;in which case I&#8217;d niver have had me job. The Lord loves us
+Irish, anny way you fix it!&#8221;</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;">&#8220;</p><p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">W</span>ill!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Merne!&#8221;</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&mdash;what
+wonder so many have called the story of these two more romantic than
+romance itself?</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It has been long since we met, Will,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis. &#8220;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&mdash;but I don&#8217;t need to try.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And you, Merne,&#8221; rejoined William Clark&mdash;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&mdash;&#8220;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&#8217;s right-hand man&mdash;we hear of you
+often across the mountains. I have been waiting for you here, as
+anxious as yourself.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The water is low,&#8221; complained Lewis, &#8220;and a thousand things have
+delayed us. Are you ready to start?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;In ten minutes&mdash;in five minutes. I will have my boy York go up and
+get my rifle and my bags.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Your brother, General Clark, how is he?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>William Clark shrugged with a smile which had half as much sorrow as
+mirth in it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The truth is, Merne, the general&#8217;s heart is broken. He thinks that
+his country has forgotten him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Forgotten him? From Detroit to New Orleans&mdash;we owe it all to George
+Rogers Clark. It was he who opened the river from Pittsburgh to New
+Orleans. He&#8217;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Merne, I&#8217;ve sold my farm. I got ten thousand dollars for my
+place&mdash;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. &#8217;Tis the gladdest time
+in all my life!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We are share and share alike, Will,&#8221; said his friend Lewis, soberly.
+&#8220;Tell me, can we get beyond the Mississippi this fall, do you think?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Doubtful,&#8221; said Clark. &#8220;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&#8217;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He did not note the sudden flush on his friend&#8217;s face&mdash;indeed, gave
+him no time to answer, but went on, absorbed in his own executive
+details.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What sort of men have you in your party, Merne?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Only good ones, I think. Young Shannon and an army sergeant by the
+name of Gass, Patrick Gass&mdash;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&mdash;I got those around Carlisle. We
+need more men.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have picked out a few here,&#8221; said Clark. &#8220;You know Kentucky breeds
+explorers. I have a good blacksmith, Shields, and Bill Bratton is
+another blacksmith&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;a negro is always
+good-natured under hardship, and a laugh now and then will not hurt
+any of us.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Lewis nodded assent.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nothing shall stop us, Merne, and we cannot start too soon. I want to
+see fresh grass every night for a year. But you&mdash;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? &#8217;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&mdash;or never come back at all, for all we know. Have a care,
+man&mdash;pretty girls do not wait!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>As he spoke, so strange a look passed over his friend&#8217;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>&#8220;What is it, Merne? Pardon me! Did she&mdash;not wait?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>His companion looked at him gravely.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;for him&mdash;for both.&#8221;</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>&#8220;Well, in my own case,&#8221; said he at length, &#8220;I have no ties to cut.
+&#8217;Tis as well&mdash;we shall have no faces of women to trouble us on our
+trails out yonder. They don&#8217;t belong there, Merne&mdash;the ways of the
+trappers are best. But we must not talk too much of this,&#8221; he added.
+&#8220;I&#8217;ll see you yet well settled down as a Virginia squire&mdash;your white
+hair hanging down on your shoulders and a score of grandchildren about
+your knees to hamper you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>William Clark meant well&mdash;his friend knew that; so now he smiled, or
+tried to smile.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Merne,&#8221; the red-headed one went on, throwing an arm across his
+friend&#8217;s shoulders, &#8220;pass over this affair&mdash;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&mdash;we still may do so. And look at the adventures
+before us!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are a boy, Will,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis, actually smiling now,
+&#8220;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&mdash;I was born old. But now,&#8221; he added sharply, as he rose, &#8220;a
+pleasant journey to us both&mdash;and the longer the better!&#8221;</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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;they scarcely were more than boys&mdash;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&mdash;which, by right or not, he had ruled so
+long&mdash;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&mdash;but this was a different matter. Here was a flotilla under a
+third flag&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;Great Britain must
+fall back to the North&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;the fur trade had been
+split in half. Great Britain had lost&mdash;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&mdash;had hoped for the fleet of France. They got a
+fleet of Americans in flatboats&mdash;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&mdash;an army of twenty-nine men, backed by twenty-five
+hundred dollars of a nation&#8217;s hoarded war gold!</p>
+
+<p>It was a time for hope or for despair&mdash;a time for success or
+failure&mdash;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&#8217;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&mdash;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&mdash;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>&#8220;Sir,&#8221; said he, addressing the commander, &#8220;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!&#8221;</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&mdash;the flag of the United States. It was supported by one company
+of regulars and by the little army of joint command&mdash;the army of Lewis
+and Clark&mdash;twenty-nine enlisted men in leather!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Time now, at last!&#8221; said William Clark to his friend. &#8220;Time for us to
+say farewell! Boats&mdash;three of them&mdash;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?&#8221; he added. &#8220;I&#8217;ve not been across there for two
+weeks.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;News enough,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis gravely. &#8220;I just have word of the
+arrival in town of none other than Colonel Aaron Burr.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No. I wish he were alone. Will, she is with him&mdash;his daughter, Mrs.
+Alston!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, what of that? Oh, I know&mdash;I know, but why should you meet?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;I also am a guest there. Will, what
+shall I do? It torments me!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, tut, tut!&#8221; said light-hearted William Clark. &#8220;What shall you do?
+Why, in the first place, pull the frown from your face, Merne. Now,
+this young lady forsakes her husband, travels&mdash;with her father, to be
+sure, but none the less she travels&mdash;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&mdash;don&#8217;t rebuke
+me, Merne! I am full of the joy of life. Woman&mdash;the nearest woman&mdash;to
+call her a torment! And you a soldier! I don&#8217;t blame them. Torment
+you? Yes, they will, so long as you allow it. Then don&#8217;t allow it!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You preach very well, Will. Of course, I know you don&#8217;t practise what
+you preach&mdash;who does?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, perhaps! But, seriously, why take life so hard, Merne? Why
+don&#8217;t you relax&mdash;why don&#8217;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&mdash;tell me, Merne, what woman does
+a man marry? Doesn&#8217;t he marry the one at hand&mdash;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&mdash;and does not.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Lewis did not answer his friend&#8217;s jesting argument.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Listen, Merne,&#8221; Clark went on. &#8220;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&mdash;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&mdash;the great thirst of a man for power, for
+deeds, for danger, for adventure, for accomplishment&mdash;ah, that is
+ours, and that is harder to slake, I am thinking! A man&#8217;s deeds are
+his life. They tell the tale.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;His deeds! Yes, you are right, they do, indeed, tell the tale. Let us
+hope the reckoning will stand clean at last.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Merne, you are a soldier, not a preacher.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Will, you are neither&mdash;you are only a boy!&#8221;</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&#8217;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&#8217;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 &#8220;a jentle brease&#8221; 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>&#8220;You are ill, Theodosia!&#8221; he exclaimed at last &#8220;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&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He needed not to complete the sentence. Theodosia Alston knew well
+enough what was in her father&#8217;s mind&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;although
+with dread in his own heart&mdash;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&mdash;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>&#8220;I ask your pardon, Colonel Burr,&#8221; said he, &#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Formal, cold, polite&mdash;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&mdash;nor was his bold heart
+ever more in trepidation than now, as he made excuse for
+delay&mdash;delay&mdash;delay.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My daughter, Mrs. Alston, will join us presently,&#8221; he said. &#8220;So you
+are ready, Captain Lewis?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We are quite prepared, Colonel Burr. My men are on ahead two days&#8217;
+journey, camped at St. Charles, and waiting for me to overtake them.
+Dr. Saugrain, Mr. Chouteau, Mr. Labadie&mdash;one or two others of the
+gentlemen in the city&mdash;are so kind as to offer me a convoy of honor so
+far as St. Charles. We are quite flattered. So now we start&mdash;they are
+waiting for me at the wharf now, and I must go. All bridges are burned
+behind me!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>All bridges burned?</i>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The deep voice of Aaron Burr almost trembled. His keen eye searched
+the face of the young man before him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Every one,&#8221; replied the young Virginian. &#8220;I do not know how or when I
+may return. Perhaps Mr. Clark or myself may come back by sea&mdash;should
+we ever reach the sea. We can only trust to Providence.&#8221;</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&mdash;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&mdash;the woman
+dreaded and demanded by every fiber of his being.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, not so fast, not so fast!&#8221; laughed Theodosia Alston as she came
+into the room, offering her hand. &#8220;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!&#8221;</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>&#8220;I was just going, yes,&#8221; stammered Meriwether Lewis. &#8220;I had hoped&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;
+But what he had hoped he did not say.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why might we not walk down with you to the wharf, if you are so soon
+to go?&#8221; she demanded&mdash;her own self-control concealing any
+disappointment she may have felt at her cavalier reception.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An excellent idea!&#8221; said Aaron Burr, backing his daughter&#8217;s hand, and
+trusting to her to have some plan. &#8220;A warrior must spend his last word
+with some woman, captain! Go you on ahead&mdash;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?&#8221;</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>&#8220;And so Captain Lewis is going to have his way as usual? And he was
+going&mdash;in spite of all&mdash;even without saying good-by to me!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I would have preferred that.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;you will fail!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I thank you, madam!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, you must start now, I presume&mdash;in fact, you have started; but I
+want you to come back before your obstinacy has driven you too far.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Just what do you mean?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Listen. You have given me no time, unkind as you are&mdash;not a
+moment&mdash;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?&#8221;</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&mdash;flatboats, keel-boats, pirogues, canoes&mdash;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>&#8220;I told Shannon, my aide, to meet me here,&#8221; he said at last. &#8220;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He stooped at the low door and entered. But she followed him&mdash;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&mdash;the sudden and
+full realization of both&mdash;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&mdash;had been trying to set them aside as if unheard.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Coming back?&#8221; he began, and stopped short once more. They were now
+both within the shelter of the old building.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, Merne!&#8221; she broke out suddenly. &#8220;When are you coming back to me,
+Merne?&#8221;</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>&#8220;Coming back to <i>you</i>? And you call me by that name? Only my mother,
+Mr. Jefferson and Will Clark ever did so.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, stiff-necked man! It is so hard to be kind with you! And all I
+have ever done&mdash;every time I have followed you in this way, each time
+I have humiliated myself thus&mdash;it always was only in kindness for
+you!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He made no reply.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Fate ran against us, Merne,&#8221; she went on tremblingly. &#8220;We have both
+accepted fate. But in a woman&#8217;s heart are many mansions. Is there none
+in a man&#8217;s&mdash;in yours&mdash;for me? Can&#8217;t I ask a place in a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>good man&#8217;s
+heart&mdash;an innocent, clean place? Oh, think not you have had all the
+unhappiness in your own heart! Is all the world&#8217;s misery yours? I
+don&#8217;t want you to go away, Merne, but if you do&mdash;if you must&mdash;won&#8217;t
+you come back? Oh, won&#8217;t you, Merne?&#8221;</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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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="&#8220;&#8216;Oh, Theo, what have I done?&#8217;&#8221;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&#8220;&#8216;Oh, Theo, what have I done?&#8217;&#8221;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes!&#8221; so said the voice in his ear. &#8220;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?&mdash;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?&#8221;</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&#8217;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&mdash;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&mdash;this picture of Theodosia weeping&mdash;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>&#8220;Theo! Theo! What have I done? What have I done?&#8221;</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&mdash;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&mdash;among
+what hills&mdash;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&#8217;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 d&eacute;tours 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&mdash;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&#8217;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&mdash;all the French voyageurs&mdash;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&mdash;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 &#8220;goslins,&#8221; 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&#8217;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&mdash;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&mdash;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>&#8220;Tell them to make a council, Dorion,&#8221; said Lewis. &#8220;Take this
+officer&#8217;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are chiefs!&#8221; said Dorion. &#8220;Have I not seen it? I will tell them
+so.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>But Dorion had been gone but a short time when he came hurrying back
+from the Indian village.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The runners say plenty buffalo close by,&#8221; he reported. &#8220;The chief,
+she&#8217;ll call the people to hunt the buffalo.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>William Clark turned to his companion.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You hear that, Merne?&#8221; said he. &#8220;Why should we not go also?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Agreed!&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis. &#8220;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;that was part of our
+early education. I might better have been in school sometimes, when I
+was learning the bow.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Dorion,&#8221; said Lewis to the interpreter, &#8220;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&mdash;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.&#8221;</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&mdash;short, keen-pointed
+arrows, suitable for the buffalo hunt, when driven by the stiff bows
+of the Sioux.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Strip, Will,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis. &#8220;If we ride as savages, it must
+be in full keeping.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>They did strip to the waist, as the savages always did when running
+the buffalo&mdash;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&mdash;one whose hair was red.</p>
+
+<p>The two young officers were not content with this. York, Captain
+Clark&#8217;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&mdash;another wonder in that land!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now, York, you rascal,&#8221; commanded William Clark, &#8220;do as I tell you!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yessah, massa Captain, I suttinly will!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;When I raise this flag, do you drop on the ground and knock your
+forehead three times. Groan loud&mdash;groan as if you had religion, York!
+Do you understand?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yassah, massa Captain!&#8221;</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>&#8220;I see that you are chiefs!&#8221; exclaimed Weucha. &#8220;You have many colors,
+and your medicine is strong. Take, then, these two horses of
+mine&mdash;they are good runners for buffalo&mdash;perhaps yours are not so
+fast.&#8221; Thus Dorion interpreted.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now,&#8221; said Clark, &#8220;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.&#8221;</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>&#8220;Now we shall serve!&#8221; 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&mdash;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&mdash;a picture such as any painter might have envied.</p>
+
+<p>Others of the expedition followed on as might be&mdash;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>&#8220;He say Weucha show you how Sioux can ride,&#8221; he interpreted.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Tell him it is good, Dorion,&#8221; rejoined Lewis. &#8220;We will show him also
+that we can ride!&#8221;</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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;saw it
+plunge&mdash;saw the buffalo stumble in its stride&mdash;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>&#8220;Four nice cow I&#8217;ll kill!&#8221; gabbled he. &#8220;I&#8217;ll kill him four tam, bang,
+bang! Plenty meat for my lodge now. How many you&#8217;ll shot, Captain?&#8221; he
+asked of Lewis.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Plenty&mdash;you will find them back there.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Weucha, who came up after magnanimously shaking the hand of William
+Clark, peered with curiosity into Lewis&#8217;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>&#8220;Tell him that is nothing, Dorion,&#8221; said Lewis. &#8220;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!&#8221;</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&mdash;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&mdash;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>&#8220;Weucha,&#8221; said he, Dorion interpreting for him, &#8220;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>&#8220;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>&#8220;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&mdash;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>&#8220;I give you these presents&mdash;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.&#8221;</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>&#8220;I give you the horse you rode this morning,&#8221; said Weucha to Lewis,
+&#8220;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>&#8220;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&mdash;to the Otoes, the Omahas,
+the Osages&mdash;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>&#8220;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!&#8221;</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>&#8220;Look at them, Will,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis, as they paused at the
+edge of the bluff and turned back for a last glimpse at the savage
+scene. &#8220;They are like children. I swear, I almost believe their lot in
+life is happier than our own!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Tut, tut, Merne&mdash;moralizing again?&#8221; laughed William Clark, the
+light-hearted. &#8220;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Sergeant Ordway reports Shannon still absent. It seems he went out on
+the hunt this morning, and has not yet come back. I&#8217;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, that is true,&#8221; rejoined Will Clark, rubbing his bruised leg. &#8220;It
+is beginning to show on you, too, Merne. Isn&#8217;t it enough to be
+astronomer and doctor and bookkeeper and record-keeper and all that?
+No, you think not&mdash;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&mdash;or a human mind, either, Merne. There is a limit to effort and
+endurance.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>His friend turned to him seriously.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are right, Will,&#8221; said he. &#8220;I owe duty to many besides myself.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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!&#8221;</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>&#8220;Tell me, Merne, what are you thinking of? It is not that woman?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He seemed to feel the sudden shrinking of the tall figure at his side.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have touched you on the raw once more, haven&#8217;t I, Merne?&#8221; he
+exclaimed. &#8220;I never meant to. I only want to see you happy.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You must not be too uneasy, Will,&#8221; returned Meriwether Lewis, at
+last. &#8220;It is only that sometimes at night I lie awake and ponder over
+things. And the nights themselves are wonderful!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;what is it you cannot forget? You don&#8217;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&mdash;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&#8217;t be offended&mdash;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.&#8221;</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&mdash;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&mdash;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.&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;which of all
+possible gifts of the gods he would most have coveted&mdash;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&mdash;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&#8217;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&mdash;what is the
+purpose of all this? You have left behind you all that makes
+life worth while&mdash;fortune, fame, life, ambition, honor&mdash;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&mdash;if only I dared&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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>&#8220;Will, Will!&#8221; 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>&#8220;Who calls there? Who goes?&#8221; he cried, half awake.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is I, Will,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis, advancing toward him.
+&#8220;Listen&mdash;tell me, Will, why did you do this?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why did I do what? Merne, what is wrong?&#8221;</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>&#8220;This letter&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; began Meriwether Lewis. &#8220;Certainly you carried it for
+me&mdash;why did you not bring it to me long ago?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What letter? Whose letter is it, Merne? I never saw it before. What
+is it you are saying? Are you mad?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I think so,&#8221; said Lewis, &#8220;I think I must be. Here is a letter&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Who sends it, Merne. What does it say?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is from the woman whose face I have seen at night, Will. She asks
+me to come back!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Burn it&mdash;throw it in the fire!&#8221; said William Clark sharply. &#8220;Go back?
+What, forsake Mr. Jefferson&mdash;leave me?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;on the point of letting you have all the honor of it. I was
+going to surrender my place to you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It would be worth any man&#8217;s life to try a jest like that,&#8221; said
+Meriwether Lewis. &#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She had no right&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ah, but that is the cruelty of it&mdash;she <i>did</i> have the right!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There are some things which a man must work out for himself,&#8221; said
+William Clark slowly, after a time. &#8220;I don&#8217;t think I&#8217;ll ask any
+questions. If there is any place where I can take half your burden,
+you know what I will do. We&#8217;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.&#8221;</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>&#8220;Give the orders to the men to roll out, Captain Clark,&#8221; said he at
+length.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Which way, Captain Lewis&mdash;upstream or down?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The expedition will go forward, Captain Clark.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;God bless you, Merne!&#8221; 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&#8217;S WORK</h3>
+
+<p style="float: left; font-size: 100%; line-height: 80%; margin-top: 0;">&#8220;</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!&#8221;</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>&#8220;Ordway! Gass! Pryor!&#8221; Lewis called in the sergeants in charge of the
+three messes. &#8220;The boy Shannon has not returned. Which of your men,
+Ordway, will best serve to find Shannon and meet us up the river?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Myself, sir,&#8221; said Ordway, &#8220;if you please.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, &#8217;tis meself, sor,&#8221; interrupted Patrick Gass.</p>
+
+<p>Pryor, with hand outstretched, also claimed the honor of the difficult
+undertaking.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You three are needed in the boats,&#8221; said the leader. &#8220;No, I think it
+will be better to send Drouillard and the two Fields boys. But tell
+me, Sergeant Ordway&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Yes, sir!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Has any boat passed up the river within the last day&mdash;for instance,
+while we were away at the hunt?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I think not, sir. Surely any one coming up the river would have
+turned in at our camp.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Lewis turned to Gass, to Pryor; but both agreed that no boat could
+have gone by unnoticed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And no man has come into the camp from below&mdash;no horseman?&#8221;</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>&#8220;The men will find Shannon and bring him in ahead&mdash;we can&#8217;t afford to
+wait here for them. The water is falling now,&#8221; said Clark. &#8220;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&mdash;that would make it sixty miles upstream&mdash;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!&#8221; he called. &#8220;You shall lead the line
+for the first draw. Make it lively for an hour! Sing some song,
+Cruzatte, if you can&mdash;some song of old Kaskaskia.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Sure, the Frenchmans, she&#8217;ll lead on the line this morning,
+<i>Capitaine</i>! I&#8217;ll put nine, seven Frenchmans on the line, and she&#8217;ll
+run on the bank on her bare feet two hour&mdash;one hour. This buffalo
+meat, she make Frenchmans strong like nothing!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Go on, Frenchy!&#8221; said Patrick Gass, Cruzatte&#8217;s sergeant, who stood
+near by. &#8220;Wait until time comes for my squad on the line&mdash;&#8217;tis thin
+we&#8217;ll make the elkhide hum! There&#8217;s a few of the Irish along.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ho!&#8221; said Ordway, usually silent. &#8220;Wait rather for us Yankees&mdash;we&#8217;ll
+show you what old Vermont can do!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;As to that,&#8221; said Pryor, &#8220;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; broke in Peter Weiser, joining them as they argued, &#8220;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&mdash;ole Virginny
+never tires!&#8221;</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&#8217;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&mdash;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>&#8220;We surely must be almost across now!&#8221; 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>&#8220;It certainly is in the off chance now,&#8221; assented William Clark
+seriously, one day as they lay in the noon encampment. &#8220;But perhaps he
+may be among the natives somewhere, and we may hear of him when we
+come back&mdash;if ever we do.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If he got by the Teton Sioux, and kept on up the river, in time he
+would find us somewhere among the Mandans,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis.
+&#8220;But we will try once more before we give him up. Send a man to the
+top of the bluff with my spyglass.&#8221;</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&#8217;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>&#8220;And she was lucky man, too!&#8221; said Drouillard, a half-hour later,
+nodding toward the opposite shore. &#8220;Suppose he is on that side, she&#8217;ll
+not go in today!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Two weeks on his foot!&#8221;</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>&#8220;Sioux!&#8221; said he. &#8220;They are painted, too. I fancy,&#8221; he added, as he
+turned toward his associates, &#8220;that this must be Black Buffalo&#8217;s band
+of Tetons you&#8217;ve told us about, Drouillard.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>Oui, oui</i>, the Teton!&#8221; exclaimed Drouillard. &#8220;I&#8217;ll not spoke his
+language, me; but she&#8217;ll be bad Sioux. <i>Prenez garde, Capitaine,
+prenez garde pour ces sauvages, les Sioux!</i>&#8221;</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&mdash;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>&#8220;Bring out the flag, Will,&#8221; said he. &#8220;Put up our council awning. I&#8217;ll
+have a parley with their head man. Can you make him out, Drouillard?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;ll said he was Black Buffalo,&#8221; replied the Frenchman. &#8220;I don&#8217;t
+understand him very good.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Take him these things, Drouillard,&#8221; said Lewis. &#8220;Give him a lace coat
+and hat, a red feather, some tobacco, and this medal. Tell him that
+when we get ready we&#8217;ll make a talk with him.&#8221;</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&#8217;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&#8217;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&mdash;the gun whose thunder voice they had
+heard.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Big medicine!&#8221; 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>&#8220;<i>Croyez moi!</i>&#8221; ejaculated Drouillard. &#8220;These Hinjun, she&#8217;ll think he
+own this country!&#8221;</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>&#8220;Black Buffalo,&#8221; said Lewis, as best he might through his interpreter,
+&#8220;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ha!&#8221; exclaimed the Teton leader, his dignity outraged. &#8220;You say I am
+not Black Buffalo&mdash;that I am not a chief. I will show you!&#8221;</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>&#8220;A near thing, Merne!&#8221; said Will Clark after a time. &#8220;There is some
+mighty Hand that seems to guide us&mdash;is it not the truth?&#8221;</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&mdash;winter on the plains. It
+was late in October, more than five months out from St. Louis, when
+Mr. Jefferson&#8217;s &#8220;Volunteers for the Discovery of the West&#8221; 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&mdash;McCracken, an Irishman; Jussaume, a Frenchman; Henderson, an
+Englishman; La Roque, another Frenchman&mdash;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&#8217;s goods gave his
+people over the neighboring tribes, and also quick to understand the
+virtue of competition.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Brothers,&#8221; said he, &#8220;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We open our ears to what Big White has said,&#8221; replied Lewis&mdash;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. &#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What Great Father is that?&#8221; demanded Big White. &#8220;It seems there are
+many Great Fathers in these days! Who are you strangers, who come from
+so far?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is good,&#8221; said the Mandan. &#8220;<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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;When the grass is green,&#8221; said Lewis, &#8220;I shall lead my young men
+toward the setting sun. We shall make new trails.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Jussaume, McCracken, and all the others held their own council with
+the leaders of the expedition.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What are you doing here?&#8221; they demanded. &#8220;The Missouri has always
+belonged to the British traders.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The face of Meriwether Lewis flushed with anger.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We are about the business of our government,&#8221; he said. &#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Purchase? What purchase?&#8221; 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>&#8220;The Louisiana Purchase&mdash;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&mdash;the Missouri is our own pathway into our own
+country. That is our business here!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You must go back!&#8221; said the hot-headed Irishman. &#8220;I shall tell my
+factor, Chaboillez, at Fort Assiniboine. We want no more traders here.
+This is our country!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We do not come to trade,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis. &#8220;We play a larger
+game. I know that the men of the Northwest Company have found the
+Arctic Ocean&mdash;you <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span>are welcome to it until we want it&mdash;we do not want
+it now. I know you have found the Pacific somewhere above the
+Columbia&mdash;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>McCracken, irritated, turned away from the talk.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is a fine fairy tale they tell us!&#8221; said he to his fellows.</p>
+
+<p>Drouillard came a moment later to his chief.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Those men she&#8217;ll take her dog-team for Assiniboine now&mdash;maybe so one
+hundred and fifty miles that way. He&#8217;ll told his factor now, on the
+Assiniboine post.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Lewis smiled.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Tell him to take this letter to his factor, Drouillard,&#8221; said he. &#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My faith,&#8221; said Jussaume, the Frenchman, &#8220;you come a long way! Why
+you want to go more farther West? But, listen, <i>Monsieur
+Capitaine</i>&mdash;the Englishman, he&#8217;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&mdash;I know!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;&#8217;Tis a long road from here to the middle of Lake Superior&#8217;s north
+shore,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis. &#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know the man they&#8217;ll send,&#8221; went on Jussaume. &#8220;Simon Fraser&mdash;I know
+him. Long time he&#8217;ll want to go up the Saskatchewan and over the
+mountain on the ocean.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll race Mr. Fraser to the ocean,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis; &#8220;him or
+any other man. While he plans, we shall be on our way!&#8221;</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>&#8220;The red-headed young man is not so bad,&#8221; said one of the white
+news-bearers at the Assiniboine post. &#8220;He is willing to parley, and he
+seems disposed to be amiable. But the other, the one named Lewis&mdash;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Agreed, then!&#8221; 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. &#8220;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&mdash;all of
+them, not part of them&mdash;very well. If they will not listen to reason,
+then we shall use such means as we need to stop them.&#8221;</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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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>&#8220;They have built a great house of tall logs,&#8221; said the Indians. &#8220;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>&#8220;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&mdash;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&mdash;all the time they work at something, the two
+chiefs. They have a black man with them who cannot be washed
+white&mdash;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>&#8220;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&mdash;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&mdash;not a day
+goes by that their hunters do not bring in elk and deer and buffalo.
+They do not fear us.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We have seen no men like these. They are chiefs, and their medicine
+is strong!&#8221;</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;">&#8220;</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!&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis, when, at length, one
+cold winter morning, they stood within the walls of the completed
+fortress. &#8220;Now we can have our own fireplace and go on with our work
+in comfort. The collection is growing splendidly!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, Mr. Jefferson will find that we have been busy,&#8221; rejoined Clark.
+&#8220;The barge will go down well loaded in the spring. They&#8217;ll have the
+best of it&mdash;downhill, and over country they have crossed.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;True,&#8221; mused Lewis. &#8220;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&mdash;you know our other new
+interpreter, the sullen chap, Charbonneau&mdash;that polygamous scamp with
+two or three Indian wives?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, and a surly brute he is!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;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&mdash;see the moccasins she made for me but now. And I
+only had to knock her husband down once for beating her!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Lucky man!&#8221; grinned William Clark. &#8220;I have knocked him down half a
+dozen times, and she has made me no moccasins at all. But what then?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;the &#8216;Ro&#8217;jaune,&#8217; Jussaume calls it. Very well. Many
+days&#8217;or weeks&#8217; journey toward the west, this river comes again within
+a half-day&#8217;s march of the Missouri. That is near the summit of the
+mountains; and this girl&#8217;s people live there.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;By the Lord, Merne, you&#8217;re a genius for getting over new country!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Wait. I find the child very bright&mdash;very clear of mind. And listen,
+Will&mdash;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&#8217;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&mdash;the &#8216;Bird
+Woman.&#8217; 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&mdash;or, at least, you will do so, Will,&#8221; he
+concluded.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What do you mean, Merne? Surely, if I do, you will also!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I cannot be sure.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The florid face of William Clark showed a frown of displeasure.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are not as well as you should be&mdash;you work too much. That is not
+just to Mr. Jefferson, Merne, nor to our men, nor to me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It was for that reason I took you on. Doesn&#8217;t a man have two lungs,
+two arms, two limbs, two eyes? We are those for Mr. Jefferson&mdash;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Meriwether Lewis turned to his colleague with the sweet smile which
+sometimes his friends saw.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You see, I am a fatalist,&#8221; he went on. &#8220;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&#8217;t question me too deep. Your
+flag, Will, I know will be planted on the last parapet of life&mdash;you
+were born to succeed. For myself, I still must remember what my mother
+told me&mdash;something about the burden which would be too heavy, the
+trail which would be long. At times I doubt.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Confound it, Merne, you have not been yourself since you got that
+accursed letter in the night last summer!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;It was unsettling, I don&#8217;t deny.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I pray Heaven you&#8217;ll never get another!&#8221; said William Clark. &#8220;From a
+married woman, too! Thank God I&#8217;ve no such affair on my mind!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is taboo, Will&mdash;that one thing!&#8221;</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&mdash;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&mdash;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>&#8220;White men make a medicine dance,&#8221; 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&mdash;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&#8217;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&mdash;her people had heard of that&mdash;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&mdash;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>&#8220;Keep the men going, Will,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis. &#8220;I&#8217;ll go to my room
+and get forward some letters which I want to write&mdash;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!&#8221;</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.&mdash;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&mdash;that he
+was a helpless instrument in the hands of fate. He broke the seal&mdash;not
+noticing as he did so that it had a number scratched into the wax&mdash;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&mdash;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&#8217;s faces so often&mdash;so soon&mdash;are lost from
+a man&#8217;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&#8217;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&mdash;can you forget what you said?</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I will always be there, Theodosia,&#8221; you said, &#8220;when you are
+in trouble!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>You said it stoutly, and I believed it, as a child.</p>
+
+<p>I believed you then&mdash;I believe you now. I still have the
+same child&#8217;s faith in you. My mother died while I was young;
+my father has always been so busy&mdash;I scarcely have been a
+girl, as you say you never were a boy. You know my
+husband&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;and I may tell it
+to you&mdash;that on your recall rested all hope of the success
+of our own cause on the lower Mississippi&mdash;for ourselves and
+for you. If you do not come back to us, as early as you can,
+you condemn us to failure&mdash;myself&mdash;my life&mdash;that of my
+father&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;it is
+Captain Lewis. And&mdash;how shall I say it and not be
+misunderstood?&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;who has cherished so much ambition
+for you?</p>
+
+<p>Meriwether Lewis, my friend&mdash;you who would have been my
+lover&mdash;for whom there is no hope, since fate has been so
+unkind&mdash;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&mdash;in whatever direction you may
+travel&mdash;from us or toward us&mdash;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&mdash;return to keep his promise&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;he never knew how long&mdash;he sat thus, staring,
+pondering, but at length with sudden energy he rose and flung open the
+door of the dancing-room.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Will!&#8221; he called to his companion.</p>
+
+<p>When William Clark joined his friend in the outer air, he saw the open
+letter in Lewis&#8217;s hand&mdash;saw also the distress upon his countenance.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Merne, it&#8217;s another letter from that woman! I wish I had her here,
+that I might wring her neck!&#8221; said William Clark viciously. &#8220;Who
+brought it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know.&#8221;</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>&#8220;Will,&#8221; said he at length, &#8220;don&#8217;t you recall what I was telling you
+this very morning? I felt something coming&mdash;I felt that fate had
+something more for me. You know I spoke in doubt.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Listen, Merne!&#8221; replied William Clark. &#8220;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>His friend looked him steadily in the eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Rebuke not her, but me!&#8221; he said. &#8220;This letter asks me to come back
+to kiss away a woman&#8217;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&mdash;I, your friend, did that!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>William Clark, more genuinely troubled than ever in his life before,
+was dumb.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My future is forfeited, Will,&#8221; went on the same even, dull voice,
+which Clark could scarcely recognize; &#8220;but I have decided to go on
+through with you.&#8221;</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;">&#8220;</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?&#8221; asked Meriwether Lewis. &#8220;Which is the river? If we
+miss many guesses, the British will beat us through. Which is our
+river here?&#8221;</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&mdash;both animals then new
+to science&mdash;antlers of the deer and elk, stuffed specimens, dried
+skins, herbs, fruits, flowers; and with all these the broken story of
+a new geography&mdash;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>&#8220;Which way, Sacajawea?&#8221; asked Meriwether Lewis. &#8220;What river is this
+which goes on to the left?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Him Ro&#8217;shone,&#8221; replied the girl. &#8220;My man call him that. No good!
+<i>Him</i>&mdash;big river&#8221;; and she pointed toward the right-hand stream.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;As I thought, Will,&#8221; said Lewis, nodding; and again, to the Indian
+girl: &#8220;Do you remember this place?&#8221;</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>&#8220;See!&#8221;</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&mdash;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&#8217; drawings made
+with a pointed stick upon the earth, or with a coal on a whitened
+hide.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She knows, Will!&#8221; said Lewis. &#8220;See, this place she marks near the
+mountain summit, where the two streams are close&mdash;some time we must
+explore that crossing!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m sure I&#8217;d rather trust her map than this one, here, of old
+Jonathan Carver,&#8221; answered Clark, the map-maker. &#8220;His idea of this
+country is that four great rivers head about where we are now. He
+marks the river Bourbon&mdash;which I never heard of&mdash;as running north to
+Hudson Bay, but he has the St. Lawrence rising near here, too&mdash;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. &#8217;Tis all very simple, on Carver&#8217;s maps, but perhaps not
+quite so easy, if we follow that of Sacajawea. This country is wider
+than any of us ever dreamed.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And greater, and more beautiful in every way,&#8221; 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&mdash;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&mdash;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>&#8220;Soon we see the mountains!&#8221; 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>&#8220;It is the mountains!&#8221; he exclaimed. &#8220;There lie the Stonies. They do
+exist! We shall surely reach them! We have won!&#8221;</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>&#8220;The north wan, she&#8217;ll be the right wan, <i>Capitaine</i>,&#8221; 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>&#8220;Blackfoot!&#8221; 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>&#8220;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,&#8221; one said. &#8220;We shall perish when the winter comes!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We will go both ways,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis at length. &#8220;Captain
+Clark will explore the lower fork, while I go up the right-hand
+stream. We will meet here when we know the truth.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>So Lewis traveled two days&#8217; journey up the right-hand fork before he
+turned back, thoughtful.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have decided,&#8221; said he to the men who accompanied him. &#8220;This stream
+will lead us far to the north, into the British country. It cannot be
+the true Missouri. I shall call this Maria&#8217;s River, after my cousin in
+Virginia, Maria Woods. I shall not call it the Missouri.&#8221;</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>&#8220;We must prove it yet further,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis. &#8220;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&mdash;we shall fail! But where is Sacajawea?&#8221; he added.
+&#8220;I will ask her once more.&#8221;</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, &#8220;That way! By
+and by, big falls&mdash;um-m-m, um-m-m!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Guard her well,&#8221; said Lewis anxiously. &#8220;Much depends on her. I must
+go on ahead.&#8221;</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&mdash;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&mdash;they hid it
+in the willows of an island near the mouth of Maria&#8217;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 ca&ntilde;on.</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&mdash;those wonderful cascades, now so well known in industry, so
+nearly forgotten in history.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The girl was right&mdash;this is the river!&#8221; said Lewis to his men. &#8220;It
+comes from the mountains. We are right!&#8221;</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&#8217;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>&#8220;Make some boat-trucks, Will,&#8221; said Lewis, when at last they were all
+encamped at the foot of the falls. &#8220;We shall have to portage twenty
+miles of falls and rapids.&#8221;</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>&#8220;We must leave more plunder here, Merne,&#8221; said he. &#8220;We can&#8217;t get into
+the mountains with all this.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>So again they cached some of their stores. They buried here the great
+swivel piece which had &#8220;made the thunder&#8221; among so many savage tribes.
+Also there were stored here the spring&#8217;s collection of animals and
+minerals, certain books and maps not needed, and the great grindstone
+which had come all the way from Harper&#8217;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>&#8220;We must go on!&#8221; 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>&#8220;My people here!&#8221; said she, and pointed to camp-fires. &#8220;Plenty people
+come here. Heap hunt buffalo!&#8221; She pointed out the trails made by the
+lodge-poles.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She knows, Will!&#8221; said Lewis, once more. &#8220;We have a guide even here.
+We are the luckiest of men!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Soon we come where three rivers,&#8221; said Sacajawea one day. They had
+passed to the south and west through the first range of
+mountains&mdash;through that Gate of the Mountains near to the rich gold
+fields of the future State of Montana. &#8220;By and by, three rivers&mdash;I
+know!&#8221;</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>&#8220;We will camp here,&#8221; said the leader. &#8220;We are tired, we have worked
+long and hard!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My people come here,&#8221; said Sacajawea, &#8220;plenty time. Here the
+Minnetarees struck my people&mdash;five snows ago that was. They caught me
+and took me with them, so I find Charbonneau among the Mandans. Here
+my people live!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Without hesitation she pointed out that one of the three forks of the
+Missouri which led off to the westward&mdash;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&mdash;well
+known to all the Indians&mdash;they went into camp once more.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Captains make medicine now,&#8221; 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>&#8220;You will be cold, sir,&#8221; said one of the men solicitously, as he
+passed on his way to guard mount. &#8220;Shall I fetch your coat?&#8221;</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&#8217;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>&#8220;Is Shannon here?&#8221; he asked of the man who had handed him the coat.
+&#8220;He was to get my moccasins mended for me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, captain, he is out with Captain Clark,&#8221; replied Fields, the
+Kentuckian.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Very well&mdash;that will do, Fields.&#8221;</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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&#8217; scouting trip, his
+forehead was furrowed with anxiety. His men were silent as they filed
+into camp and cast down their knapsacks.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s no use, Merne,&#8221; said Clark, &#8220;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&mdash;downstream.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What do you mean?&#8221; demanded Meriwether Lewis quietly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I scarce know. I am worn out, Merne. My men have been driven hard.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And why not?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>His companion remained silent under the apparent rebuke.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t mean that we should return?&#8221; Lewis went on.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why not, Merne?&#8221; said William Clark, sighing.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Our men are exhausted. There are other years than this.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Meriwether Lewis turned upon his friend with the one flash of wrath
+which ever was known between them.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good Heavens, Captain Clark,&#8221; said he, &#8220;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&mdash;within the hour I shall go on. We&#8217;ll
+cross over, or we&#8217;ll leave the bones of every man of the expedition
+here&mdash;this year&mdash;now!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Clark&#8217;s florid face flushed under the sting of his comrade&#8217;s words;
+but his response was manful and just.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are right,&#8221; said he at length. &#8220;Forgive me if for a moment&mdash;just
+a moment&mdash;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&mdash;yet I know what excuse you would have
+for it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are only weary, Will. It is my turn now,&#8221; 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>&#8220;McNeal,&#8221; said he, &#8220;get Reuben Fields, Whitehouse, and Goodrich. Make
+light packs. We are going into the mountains!&#8221;</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>&#8220;That way!&#8221; 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&mdash;that was little&mdash;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>&#8220;It stands to reason,&#8221; said Ordway, usually so silent, &#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Pryor nodded his head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sure,&#8221; said he, &#8220;and all the game-trails break off to the south and
+southwest. Follow the elk!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is it so?&#8221; exclaimed Patrick Gass. &#8220;You think it aisy to find a way
+across yonder range? And how d&#8217;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&#8217;ve been done <i>wance</i>&mdash;but it&#8217;s the first toime
+that counts!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There is no other way, Pat,&#8221; argued Ordway. &#8220;&#8217;Tis the rivers that
+make passes in any mountain range.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Which is the roight river, then?&#8221; rejoined Gass. &#8220;We&#8217;re lookin&#8217; for
+wan that mebbe is nowhere near here. S&#8217;pose we go to the top yonder
+and take a creek down, and s&#8217;pose that creek don&#8217;t run the roight way
+at all, but comes out a thousand miles to the southwest&mdash;where are you
+then, I&#8217;d like to know? The throuble with us is we&#8217;re the first wans
+to cross here, and not comin&#8217; along after some one else has done the
+thrick for us.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Pryor was willing to argue further.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All the Injuns have said the big river was over there somewhere.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Somewhere&#8217;!&#8221; exclaimed Patrick Gass. &#8220;&#8216;Somewhere&#8217; is a mighty long
+ways when we&#8217;re lost and hungry!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Which is just what we are now,&#8221; rejoined Pryor. &#8220;The sooner we start
+back the quicker we&#8217;ll be out of this.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Pryor!&#8221; The square face of the Irishman hardened at once. &#8220;Listen to
+me. Ye&#8217;re my bunkmate and friend, but I warn ye not to say that agin!
+If ye said it where he could hear ye&mdash;that man ahead&mdash;do you know what
+he would do to you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I ain&#8217;t particular. &#8217;Tis time we took this thing into our own hands.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s where we&#8217;re takin&#8217; it <i>now</i>, Pryor!&#8221; said Gass ominously. &#8220;A
+coort martial has set for less than that ye&#8217;ve said!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Mebbe you couldn&#8217;t call one&mdash;I don&#8217;t know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mebbe we couldn&#8217;t, eh? I mind me of a little settlement I had with
+that man wance&mdash;no coort martial at all&mdash;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 &#8217;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&mdash;and you, too, Ordway&mdash;a man like that is liable to
+have judgment in his head as well as a punch in his arm. We&#8217;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&#8217; around and talkin&#8217;
+any disrespect to their shuperiors. If we&#8217;re in a bad place, let us
+fight our ways out. Let&#8217;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&#8217; to
+fight. I&#8217;m with him!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, maybe you are right, Pat,&#8221; 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>&#8220;What is it, Captain?&#8221; asked Hugh McNeal. &#8220;Some game?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, a man&mdash;an Indian! Riding a good horse, too&mdash;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!&#8221;</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>&#8220;His people are that way,&#8221; said Lewis. &#8220;Come!&#8221;</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>&#8220;These are Shoshones,&#8221; said he to his men. &#8220;I can speak with them&mdash;I
+have learned some of their tongue from Sacajawea. These are her
+people. We are safe!&#8221;</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&mdash;the few words of their tongue
+which Lewis was able to speak gave them assurance.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;McNeal,&#8221; said Lewis, &#8220;go back now across the range, and tell Captain
+Clark to bring up the men.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>William Clark, given one night&#8217;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>&#8220;My people! My people!&#8221; 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&mdash;they would be footmen no
+more.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Which way, Sacajawea?&#8221; Meriwether Lewis once more asked the Indian
+girl.</p>
+
+<p>But now she only shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not know,&#8221; said she. &#8220;These my people. They say big river that way.
+Not know which way.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now, Merne,&#8221; said William Clark, &#8220;it&#8217;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&mdash;they have heard of goods which must have been made by white
+men. We are in touch with the Pacific here. I&#8217;ll get a guide and
+explore off to the southwest. It looks better there.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No good&mdash;no good!&#8221; insisted Sacajawea. &#8220;That way no good. My brother
+say go that way.&#8221;</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>&#8220;That way!&#8221; 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>&#8220;We will go north,&#8221; 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>&#8220;No!&#8221; said Sacajawea. &#8220;I no go back&mdash;I go with the white chief to the
+water that tastes salt!&#8221; 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&mdash;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&mdash;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>&#8220;There is a trail,&#8221; said he, &#8220;which comes across here. The Indians
+come to reach the buffalo. On the farther side the water runs toward
+the sunset.&#8221;</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&mdash;the Nez Perc&eacute;s. 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>&#8220;We will leave our horses here,&#8221; said Lewis. &#8220;We will take to the
+boats once more.&#8221;</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 Perc&eacute;s,
+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&mdash;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>&#8220;Will,&#8221; said Lewis, &#8220;it is done&mdash;we are safe now! We shall be first
+across to the Columbia. This&mdash;&#8221; he shook the Nez Perc&eacute;s&#8217; scrawled
+hide&mdash;&#8220;is the map of a new world!&#8221;</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&#8217;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&mdash;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&mdash;all the
+adventurers&mdash;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&mdash;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&#8217;s,
+Rainier, Adams&mdash;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&mdash;all you others&mdash;time now,
+indeed, for you to raise the song of the old voyageurs! None have come
+so far as you&mdash;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&mdash;canoes with trees
+standing in them, on which teepees were hung.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Me,&#8221; said Cruzatte, &#8220;I never in my whole life was seen a sheep! I
+will be glad for see wan now.&#8221;</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&mdash;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>&#8220;The big flag, Sergeant Gass!&#8221; said Lewis.</p>
+
+<p>They turned ashore. There had been four mess fires at each encampment
+thus far&mdash;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>&#8220;Men,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis at length, &#8220;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.&#8221;</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>&#8220;And the confounded ships are all gone back to sea!&#8221; grumbled Patrick
+Gass. &#8220;I&#8217;ve been achin&#8217; for days to git here, in the hope of foindin&#8217;
+some sailor man I&#8217;d loike to thrash&mdash;and here is no one at all, at
+all!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Will,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis after a time, pulling out the inevitable
+map, &#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; grinned William Clark, standing on one leg and warming his wet
+moccasin sole at the fire; &#8220;and I wonder where that other gentleman,
+Mr. Simon Fraser, is just now!&#8221;</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>&#8220;That&#8217;s Lewis and Clark!&#8221; said Simon Fraser. &#8220;They were at the Mandan
+villages. We are beaten!&#8221;</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>&#8220;There is little to attract us here,&#8221; said William Clark. &#8220;On the
+south shore there is better shelter for our winter camp.&#8221; 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&mdash;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&#8217;s
+fiddle. Came New Year&#8217;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>&#8220;Pretty soon, by and by,&#8221; said the voyageurs, &#8220;we will run on the
+river for home once more!&#8221;</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>&#8220;We must leave a record, Will,&#8221; said Lewis one day, looking up from
+his papers. &#8220;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.&#8221;</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&mdash;who can glibly list the names of the multimillionaires of
+America&mdash;cannot tell the names of more than two of those thirty-one
+men, each of whom should be an immortal.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Boats now, Will!&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis. &#8220;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&#8217; seagoing canoes,
+Will&mdash;their lines are easier than those of our dugouts.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Need was for skilful trading now on the part of William Clark, for,
+eager as the natives were for the white men&#8217;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>&#8220;You could tie up all the rest in a couple of handkerchiefs,&#8221; said
+William Clark, laughing. &#8220;But such as it is, it must last us back to
+St. Louis&mdash;or at least to our caches on the Missouri.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How is your salt, Will?&#8221; asked Lewis. &#8220;And your powder?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;In fine shape,&#8221; was the reply. &#8220;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.&#8221;</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&mdash;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>&#8220;What is the matter with you, Merne?&#8221; grumbled his more buoyant
+companion. &#8220;Are you still carrying all the weight of the entire
+world?&#8221;</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&mdash;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>&#8220;Capt&#8217;in,&#8221; she said one day, &#8220;what for you no laff? What for you no
+eat? What for you all time think, think, think? See,&#8221; she extended a
+hand&mdash;&#8220;I make you some more moccasin. I got picture your foot&mdash;these
+fit plenty good.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Thank you, Bird Woman,&#8221; said Lewis, rousing himself. &#8220;Without you we
+would not be here today. What can I give you in return for all
+that&mdash;in return for these?&#8221;</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&#8217;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&mdash;hungry for another message out of the sky&mdash;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&mdash;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>&#8220;Yes, Sergeant Ordway?&#8221; said he presently, looking up.</p>
+
+<p>Ordway saluted.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Something for you, sir. It seems to be a letter.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A letter! How could that be?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;That is the puzzle, sir,&#8221; said Ordway, extending a folded and sealed
+bit of paper. &#8220;We do not know how it came. Charbonneau&#8217;s wife, the
+Indian woman, found it in the baby&#8217;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Possibly&mdash;possibly,&#8221; said Lewis. His face was growing pale. &#8220;That is
+all, I think, Sergeant,&#8221; 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 &#8220;4.&#8221; He opened the letter slowly. There fell
+from it a square of stiff, white paper&mdash;all white, he thought, until
+he turned it over. Then he saw it looking up at him&mdash;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&mdash;the profile so cleanly cut and
+lofty&mdash;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="&#8220;Her face indeed!&#8221;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&#8220;Her face indeed!&#8221;</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&mdash;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. &#8217;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&mdash;destroyed&mdash;plans made for you. We are in ignorance,
+each of the other, now. I do not know where you are&mdash;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&mdash;as I do
+now?</p>
+
+<p>You have forgotten your childhood friend! I may be dead as
+you read&mdash;would you care? I have been in need&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;have you come to be just a
+man like the others? Tell me&mdash;no, I will not ask you! If I
+thought you could descend to the lawless standard of the
+wilderness&mdash;but no, I cannot think of that! In any case,
+&#8217;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&mdash;three months, four, six&mdash;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&mdash;my father and his friends&mdash;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&mdash;the duty&mdash;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&mdash;&mdash;</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&mdash;<i>has been for you!</i> See, I am
+writing those words&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;that you brought this on yourself&mdash;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>&#8220;She asked and I refused her!&#8221;</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&mdash;the truth I ought not to lay upon you as any
+secret&mdash;<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&mdash;I am in your hands&mdash;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&mdash;do you not see?&mdash;a gentleman does not kiss the
+woman whom he has at a disadvantage&mdash;the woman who can never
+be his, who is another&#8217;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&mdash;the one you gave me years ago when I was in Virginia.
+And it&mdash;good night, Mr. Meriwether Lewis!</p>
+
+<p>Place me apart&mdash;far from you in the room. Let my face not
+look at you direct. But in your heart&mdash;your hard heart of a
+man, intent on dreams, forgetful of all else&mdash;please, please
+let there linger some small memory of her who dares to write
+these lines&mdash;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&#8217;s fingers. He asked no questions, but he knew.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Enough!&#8221; broke out Meriwether Lewis hoarsely. &#8220;No more of this&mdash;we
+must be gone! Are the men ready? Why do we delay? Why are we not away
+for the journey home?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>So impatient, so incoherent, did his speech seem that for a time Clark
+almost feared lest his friend&#8217;s reason might have been affected. But
+he only stood looking at Lewis, ready to be of such aid as might be.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;In two hours, Merne,&#8221; said he, &#8220;we will be on our way.&#8221;</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&mdash;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&mdash;which seemed exceedingly good food.</p>
+
+<p>The Nez Perc&eacute;s, 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 Perc&eacute;s guides. By the third of
+July&mdash;just three years from the date of the Louisiana Purchase as it
+was made known at Mr. Jefferson&#8217;s simplicity dinner&mdash;they were across
+the Bitter Roots once more, in the pleasant valleys of the eastern
+slope.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That way,&#8221; said Sacajawea, pointing, &#8220;big falls!&#8221;</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
+Perc&eacute;s knew well.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We must part, Will,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis. &#8220;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.&#8221;</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>&#8220;That way short path over mountains,&#8221; 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&#8217;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>&#8220;That way,&#8221; said she, &#8220;find boat, find cache!&#8221;</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&#8217;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>&#8220;That way!&#8221; 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&#8217;s
+extraordinary short cut between the Missouri and the Yellowstone. They
+struck the latter river below the mouth of its great ca&ntilde;on, 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&mdash;Pryor, Shannon, Hall and one or two others&mdash;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&#8217;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>&#8220;Sergeant Gass,&#8221; said Captain Lewis, &#8220;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&#8217;s River. When you come to the mouth of that river&mdash;which you
+will remember some of you held to be the real Missouri&mdash;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&#8217;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&#8217;s River somewhere about the beginning of August.&#8221;</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>&#8220;Curse you, turn loose of me!&#8221; 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>&#8220;Mount, men! Hurry!&#8221; 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&#8217;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&mdash;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&mdash;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>&#8220;The captain! I&#8217;ve keeled him&mdash;I&#8217;ve keeled the captain&mdash;I&#8217;ve shot
+him!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What is that you&#8217;re saying?&#8221; demanded Patrick Gass. &#8220;If you&#8217;ve done
+that, you would be better dead yourself!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He reached out, caught Cruzatte&#8217;s rifle, and flung it away from him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Where is he?&#8221; he demanded.</p>
+
+<p>Cruzatte led the way back.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I see something move on the bushes,&#8221; said he, &#8220;and I shoot. It was
+not elk&mdash;it was the captain. <i>Mon Dieu</i>, what shall we do?&#8221;</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&mdash;tears which touched Meriwether Lewis
+deeply.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is all right, men!&#8221; said he. &#8220;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!&#8221;</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>&#8220;Sergeant,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis, &#8220;the natural fever of my wound is
+coming on. Give me my little war-sack yonder&mdash;I must see if I can find
+some medicine.&#8221;</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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;the one secret
+of my life&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;of the vast comfort of the plains, of the
+mountains&mdash;the sweep of the untiring winds, sweet in the
+trees and grasses&mdash;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&mdash;how can I&mdash;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&#8217;s life even than
+his deeds and his ambitions&mdash;even than his labors&mdash;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&mdash;what do we know of men? I cannot
+say, though I am a married woman. My husband married me. We
+had our honeymoon&mdash;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&#8217;s life&mdash;above all&mdash;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&mdash;no! What was I
+saying, Meriwether Lewis, to you but now, even though you
+were blind and deaf? I must not&mdash;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&#8217;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&mdash;perhaps at this very time&mdash;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&mdash;it is my confessional. How often does a woman ever
+confess her own, her inner and real heart? Never, I think,
+to any man&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;your own impulses&mdash;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&#8217;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&mdash;and that you were
+Meriwether Lewis of Virginia.</p>
+
+<p>Nay, I <i>cannot</i> stop! How can you mind my garrulous pen&mdash;my
+vain pen&mdash;my wicked, wicked, wicked, shameful pen&mdash;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&mdash;let <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span>that also go out to the world&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;pushing on through everything to what you have set out
+to do&mdash;that is the man I could have loved! Deeds, deeds,
+high accomplishments&mdash;these in truth are the things which
+are to prevail. The selfish love of success as success&mdash;the
+love of ease, of money, of power&mdash;these are the things women
+covet <i>from</i> a man&mdash;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&mdash;forget all that I have said to you before&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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>&#8220;I hope I shall not be unhappy, for I do not feel that I
+have been bad.&#8221;</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;">&#8220;</p><p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">C</span>aptain, dear,&#8221; said honest Patrick Gass, putting an arm under his
+wounded commander&#8217;s shoulders as he eased his position in the boat,
+&#8220;ye are not the man ye was when ye hit me that punch back yonder on
+the Ohio, three years ago. Since ye&#8217;re so weak now, I have a good mind
+to return it to ye, with me compliments. &#8217;Tis safer now!&#8221;</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&mdash;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>&#8220;What&#8217;s wrong, Merne?&#8221; he exclaimed. &#8220;Tell me!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Lewis waved a hand at him in reassurance, and smiled as his friend
+bent above him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nothing at all, Will,&#8221; said he. &#8220;Nothing at all&mdash;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.&#8221;</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&mdash;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&mdash;rather than the forsaken infant who lustily
+bemoaned his mother&#8217;s absence from his tripod in the lodge&mdash;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&#8217;s restless soul was
+dissatisfied with delay. He would not wait.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We must get on!&#8221; said he. &#8220;We cannot delay.&#8221;</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>&#8220;I will go,&#8221; said he. &#8220;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.&#8221;</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>&#8220;Sacajawea,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis, when the hour for departure came,
+&#8220;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&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Her face lighted up with a strange wistfulness.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, Capt&#8217;in,&#8221; said she, &#8220;I go with Big White&mdash;and you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He smiled as he shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We go farther than that, many sleeps farther.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;Mrs. Charbonneau!&#8221;</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>&#8220;Sacajawea,&#8221; said he, &#8220;I cannot take your husband with me. All my
+goods are gone&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Aw right!&#8221; said Sacajawea, in paleface idiom. &#8220;Him stay&mdash;me go!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Meriwether Lewis pondered for a time on what fashion of speech he must
+employ to make her understand.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Bird Woman,&#8221; said he at length, &#8220;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, &#8216;Who is that woman there? She has no lodge; she does
+not belong to any man.&#8217; They must not say that of Sacajawea&mdash;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&#8217;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&mdash;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Your words are good,&#8221; said Sacajawea. &#8220;But I go, too! No want to stay
+here now. No can stay!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But here is your village, Sacajawea&mdash;this is your home, where you
+must live. You will be happier here. See now, when I sleep safe at
+night, I shall say, &#8216;It was Sacajawea showed me the way. We did not go
+astray&mdash;we went straight.&#8217; We will not forget who led us.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But,&#8221; she still expostulated, looking up at him, &#8220;how can you cook?
+How can you make the lodge? One woman&mdash;she must help all time.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A spasm of pain crossed Lewis&#8217;s face.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sacajawea,&#8221; said he, &#8220;I told you that I had made medicine&mdash;that I had
+promised my dream never to have a lodge of my own. Always I shall live
+upon the trail&mdash;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&mdash;the daughter of a
+chief, the sister of a chief, a great person; you know about a
+warrior&#8217;s medicine. Surely, then, you know that no one is allowed to
+ask about the vows of a chief!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;By and by,&#8221; he added gently, &#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The unwonted tears of an Indian woman were in the eyes which looked up
+at him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ah!&#8221; said she, in reproach. &#8220;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&mdash;you no need me now! You say
+to me, your people are not my people&mdash;you not need Sacajawea any
+more!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The Indian has no word for good-by. The faithful&mdash;nay, loving&mdash;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&#8217;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&mdash;back over the trail they had blazed
+for their fellows!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>Capitaine, Capitaine</i>, look what I&#8217;ll found!&#8221;</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>&#8220;What is it, Cruzatte?&#8221; 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>&#8220;Ouch, by gar! She&#8217;ll bite me with his tail. She&#8217;s hot!&#8221;</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>&#8220;Why did you kill it, Cruzatte?&#8221; he asked. &#8220;It was on its errand.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He turned to his friend who sat near, at the other side.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Will,&#8221; he said, &#8220;our expedition has succeeded. Here is the proof of
+it. The bee is following our path. They are coming!&#8221;</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&#8217;s case&mdash;the first bee of the plains.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They are coming!&#8221; 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&#8217;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>&#8220;Hoh!&#8221; 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>&#8220;Hoh!&#8221; 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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;he was long and straight in his blankets, and filled them
+well&mdash;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>&#8220;Shannon!&#8221; He heard a hoarse voice command him. &#8220;Get up!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>George Shannon, the youngest of the party, sprang out of his bed half
+clad.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Captain!&#8221; He saluted again. &#8220;What is it, sir?&#8221; he half whispered, as
+if in apprehension.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Put on your jacket, Shannon. Come with me!&#8221;</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>&#8220;What is it, Captain?&#8221; he inquired once more.</p>
+
+<p>They were apart from the others now, in the shadows beyond Lewis&#8217;s
+fire. Shannon had caught sight of his leader&#8217;s countenance, noting the
+wildness of its look, its drawn and haggard lines.</p>
+
+<p>His commander&#8217;s hand thrust in his face a clutch of papers,
+folded&mdash;letters, they seemed to be. Shannon could see the trembling of
+the hand that held them.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You know what I want, Shannon! I want the rest of these&mdash;I want the
+last one of them! Give it to me now!&#8221;</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>&#8220;Five of them!&#8221; he heard the same hoarse voice go on. &#8220;There must be
+another&mdash;there must be one more, at least. You have done this&mdash;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&#8217;t you
+answer?&#8221; With sudden and violent strength Lewis shook the boy as a dog
+might a rat. &#8220;Answer me!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Captain, I cannot!&#8221; broke out Shannon.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What? Then there is another?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll not answer! I&#8217;ll stand my trial before court martial, if you
+please.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Again the heavy hand on his shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There will be no trial!&#8221; he heard the hoarse voice of his commander
+saying. &#8220;I cannot sleep. I must have the last one. There is another!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Shannon laid a hand on the iron wrist.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How do you know?&#8221; he faltered. &#8220;Why do you think&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;by what plan&mdash;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&mdash;love songs&mdash;you write letters&mdash;love letters,
+perhaps! You are Irish&mdash;you have sentiment. There is romance about
+you&mdash;<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>&#8220;Give me that letter! I am your officer.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Captain, I will not!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I&#8217;ll not be driven to it. You say I&#8217;m Irish. I am&mdash;I&#8217;ll not give
+up a woman&#8217;s secret&mdash;it&#8217;s a question of honor, Captain. There is a
+woman concerned, as you know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&#8217;ll not answer!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The hand closed at his throat. The boy could not speak, but still
+Meriwether Lewis growled on at him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Shannon! Speak! Why have you kept secrets from your commanding
+officer? You have begun to tell me&mdash;tell me all!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The boy&#8217;s hand clutched at his leader&#8217;s wrists. At length Lewis loosed
+him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Captain,&#8221; began the victim, &#8220;what do you mean? What can I do?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I will tell you what I mean, Shannon. I promised to care for you and
+bring you back safe to your parents. You&#8217;ll never see your parents
+again, save on one condition. I trusted you, thought you had special
+loyalty for me. Was I wrong?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;On my honor, Captain,&#8221; the boy broke out, &#8220;I&#8217;d have died for you any
+time, and I&#8217;d do it now! I&#8217;ve worked my very best. You&#8217;re my officer,
+my chief!&#8221;</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>&#8220;Shannon,&#8221; said Lewis, &#8220;I&#8217;m not your officer now. I&#8217;m going to choke
+the truth out of you. Will you fight me, or are you afraid?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The last cruelty was too much. The boy began to gulp.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m not afraid to fight, sir. I&#8217;d fight any man, but you&mdash;no, I&#8217;ll
+not do it! Even stripped, you&#8217;re my commander still.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is that the reason?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not all of it. You&#8217;re weak, Captain, your wound has you in a fever.
+&#8217;Twould not be fair&mdash;I could do as I liked with you now. I&#8217;ll not
+fight you. I couldn&#8217;t!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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!&#8221;</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>&#8220;What is it, boy?&#8221; he whispered at last. &#8220;What have I done? What did I
+say?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Shannon was sobbing now.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Captain,&#8221; 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&mdash;&#8220;Captain, for Heaven&#8217;s sake, don&#8217;t do that! Don&#8217;t apologize to
+me. I understand. Leave me alone. Here&#8217;s the letter. There were
+six&mdash;this is the last.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Lewis&#8217;s strained muscles relaxed, his blazing eyes softened.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Shannon!&#8221; he whispered once more. &#8220;What have I done?&#8221;</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>&#8220;Why do you give it to me now, boy?&#8221; he asked at length. &#8220;What changed
+you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Because it&#8217;s orders, sir. She ordered me&mdash;that is, she asked me&mdash;to
+give you these letters at times when you seemed to need them
+most&mdash;when you were sick or in trouble, when anything had gone wrong.
+We couldn&#8217;t figure so far on ahead when I ought to give you each one.
+I had to do my best. I didn&#8217;t know at first, but now I see that you&#8217;re
+sick. You&#8217;re not yourself&mdash;you&#8217;re in trouble. She told me not to let
+you know who carried them,&#8221; he added rather inconsequently. &#8220;She said
+that that might end it all. She thought that you might come back.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Come back&mdash;when?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She didn&#8217;t know&mdash;we couldn&#8217;t any of us tell&mdash;it was all a guess. All
+this about the letters was left to me, to do my best. I couldn&#8217;t ask
+you, Captain, or any one. I don&#8217;t know what was in the letters, sir,
+and I don&#8217;t ask you, for that&#8217;s not my business; but I promised her.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What did she promise you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Nothing. She didn&#8217;t promise me pay, because she knew I wouldn&#8217;t have
+done it for pay. She only looked at me, and she seemed sad, I don&#8217;t
+know why. I couldn&#8217;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;When was all this?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I know, Shannon.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&#8217;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, Shannon. No! In all this there is but one to blame, and that is
+your officer, myself!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;more a
+lady, somehow. Of course, I&#8217;m not an officer or a gentleman&mdash;I&#8217;m only
+a boy from the backwoods, and only a private soldier. I couldn&#8217;t break
+my promise to her, and I couldn&#8217;t very well obey your orders unless I
+did. If I&#8217;ve broken any of the regulations you can punish me. You see,
+I held back this letter&mdash;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&mdash;that she would want me to. It is the fever,
+sir!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Aye, the fever!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Silence fell as they stood there in the night. The boy went on, half
+tremblingly:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Please, please, Captain Lewis, don&#8217;t call me a coward! I don&#8217;t
+believe I am. I was trying to do something for you&mdash;for both of you.
+It was always on my mind about these letters. I did my best and
+now&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And now it was the eye of Meriwether Lewis that suddenly was wet; it
+was his voice that trembled.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Boy,&#8221; said he, &#8220;I am your officer. Your officer asks your pardon. I
+have tried myself. I was guilty. Will you forget this?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not a word to a soul in the world, Captain!&#8221; broke out Shannon.
+&#8220;About a woman, you see, we do not talk.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, Mr. Shannon, about a woman we gentlemen do not talk. But now tell
+me, boy, what can I do for you&mdash;what can I ever do for you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nothing in the world, Captain&mdash;but just one thing.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What is it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Please, sir, tell me that you don&#8217;t think me a coward!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A coward? No, Shannon, you are the bravest fellow I ever met!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The hand on the boy&#8217;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&mdash;the madness of absence <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span>and
+of remorse&mdash;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&#8217;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;which you loved more than fame
+or fortune, honor or glory for yourself. The wilderness! It
+holds you. And for me&mdash;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&mdash;that you never can come
+back&mdash;how then could I go on?</p>
+
+<p>Meriwether&mdash;Merne&mdash;Merne&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;to one who never
+was and never can be, but <i>is</i>&mdash;&mdash;</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&mdash;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&mdash;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>&#8220;Run, boys!&#8221; cried Pierre Chouteau to his servants. &#8220;Call out the
+people! Tell them to ring the bells&mdash;tell them to fire the guns at the
+fort yonder. Captains Lewis and Clark have come back again&mdash;those who
+were dead!&#8221;</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&mdash;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&mdash;Lewis and Clark, the two friends who
+had arisen as if from the grave!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Present arms!&#8221; 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>&#8220;Aim! Fire!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The volley of salutation blazed out even with the chorus of the
+voyageurs&#8217; 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>&#8220;Come with me!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, with me!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;With me!&#8221;</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&mdash;ejaculations, exclamations.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>Ma foi!</i>&#8221; exclaimed more than one pretty French maiden. &#8220;Such
+men&mdash;such splendid men&mdash;savages, yet white! See! See!&#8221;</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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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>&#8220;My matches&mdash;my thermometers&mdash;my instruments&mdash;how did they perform?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The speaker was Dr. Saugrain, eager to meet again his friends.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Perfect, doctor, perfect! We have some of the matches yet. As to the
+thermometers, we broke the last one before we reached the sea.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You found the sea? <i>Mon Dieu!</i>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We found the Pacific. We found the Columbia, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span>the Yellowstone&mdash;many
+new rivers. We have found a new continent&mdash;made a new geography. We
+passed the head of the Missouri. We found three great mountain
+ranges.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The beaver&mdash;did you find the beaver yonder?&#8221; 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>&#8220;Beaver?&#8221; William Clark waved a hand. &#8220;How many I could not tell you!
+Thousands and millions&mdash;more beaver than ever were known in the world
+before. Millions of buffalo&mdash;elk in droves&mdash;bears such as you never
+saw&mdash;antelope, great horned sheep, otters, muskrat, mink&mdash;the greatest
+fur country in all the world. We could not tell you half!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Your men, will they be free to make return up the river with trading
+parties?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>William Clark smiled at the keenness of the old French trader.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You could not possibly have better men,&#8221; 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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;in
+short, a new world. How could they tell of it?</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Captain,&#8221; inquired Chouteau at length, &#8220;your luggage, your
+boxes&mdash;where are they?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Meriwether Lewis pointed to a skin parfleche and a knotted bandanna
+handkerchief which George Shannon carried for him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That is all I have left,&#8221; said he. &#8220;But the mail for the East&mdash;the
+mail, M. Chouteau&mdash;we must get word to the President!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The President has long ago been advised of your death,&#8221; said
+Chouteau, laughing. &#8220;All the world has said good-by to you. No doubt
+you can read your own obituaries.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We bring them better news than that. What news for us?&#8221; asked the two
+captains of their host.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;News!&#8221; The voluble Frenchman threw up his hands. &#8220;Nothing but news!
+The entire world is changed since you left. I could not tell you in a
+month. The Burr duel&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, we did not know of it for two years,&#8221; said William Clark. &#8220;We
+have just heard about it, up river.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The killing of Mr. Hamilton ended the career of Colonel Burr,&#8221; said
+Chouteau. &#8220;But for that we might have different times here in
+Mississippi. He had many friends. But you have heard the last news
+regarding him?&#8221;</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>&#8220;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&mdash;his trial is to be at Richmond. Even now it may be
+going on.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He did not notice the sudden change in Meriwether Lewis&#8217;s face.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And all the world is swimming in blood across the sea,&#8221; went on their
+garrulous informant. &#8220;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&mdash;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hold with the theory of Colonel Burr, sir?&#8221; exclaimed the deep voice
+of Meriwether Lewis. &#8220;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He had many friends,&#8221; went on Chouteau; &#8220;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&mdash;men who will not
+give up their cause. All those men needed was a leader.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But, M. Chouteau,&#8221; rejoined Lewis, &#8220;I do not understand&mdash;I cannot!
+What Colonel Burr attempted was an actual treason to this republic. I
+find it difficult to believe that!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Chouteau shrugged his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There may be two names for it,&#8221; he said.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And every one asked to join the cause was asked to join in treason to
+his country. Is it not so?&#8221; Lewis went on.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There may be two names for it,&#8221; smiled the other, still shrugging.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He was my friend,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis. &#8220;I trusted him!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Always, I repeat, there are two names for treason. But what puzzles
+me is this,&#8221; Chouteau continued. &#8220;What halted the cause of Colonel
+Burr here in the West? He seemed to be upon the point of success. His
+organization was complete&mdash;his men were in New Orleans&mdash;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&mdash;nothing! Why? At the last point something failed&mdash;no
+one knew what. He waited for something&mdash;no one knew what. Something
+lacked&mdash;no one can tell what. And all the time&mdash;this is most curious
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span>to me&mdash;I learned it through others&mdash;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The captain did not speak, and Chouteau presently went on.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why did Colonel Burr hesitate, why did he give up his plans
+here&mdash;why, indeed, did he fail? You ask me why these things were? I
+say, it was because of you&mdash;<i>messieurs</i>, you two young men, with your
+Lewis and Clark Expedition! It was <i>you</i> who broke the Burr
+Conspiracy&mdash;for so they call it in these days. <i>Messieurs</i>, that is
+your news!&#8221;</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;">&#8220;</p><p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">A</span>ttention, men!&#8221;</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&mdash;these things showed in the
+faces of his men as their eyes turned to him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Men,&#8221; said he, &#8220;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>&#8220;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>&#8220;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.&#8221;</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&#8217;s voice rang sharp and clear.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Attention! Aim&mdash;fire! Break ranks&mdash;march!&#8221;</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 f&ecirc;ted
+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 f&ecirc;ted 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&mdash;the one for Maria Woods; another for
+Judith Hancock&mdash;the Maria&#8217;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&mdash;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>&#8220;My son!&#8221; said she at length, half as much in terror as in joy.
+&#8220;Merne!&#8221;</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>&#8220;My son!&#8221; was all she could say. &#8220;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;then, back home again to talk with you, for long, long
+hours.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And what have you found?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;More than I can tell you in a year! We found the mysterious river,
+the Columbia&mdash;found where it runs into the ocean, where it starts in
+the mountains. We found the head of the Missouri&mdash;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&mdash;and we made it ours!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You should be, Merne, but are you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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,&#8221; he demanded, turning and stretching
+out his mighty arms. &#8220;I am strong. My men all came through without
+loss or injury&mdash;the splendid fellows! It is wonderful that in risks
+such as ours we met with no ill fortune.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, but are you happy? Turn your face to me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>But he did not turn his face.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I told my friend, William Clark,&#8221; he said lightly, as he rose, &#8220;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&mdash;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.&#8221;</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&mdash;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&#8217;s office door&mdash;flinging it open, as he did so, with
+the freedom of his old habit&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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>&#8220;I could hardly wait for you!&#8221; said Mr. Jefferson. He began to pace up
+and down. &#8220;I knew it, I knew it!&#8221; he exclaimed. &#8220;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He came up and placed a half playful hand on Meriwether Lewis&#8217;s
+shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Did I know men, then?&#8221; he demanded.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And did I, Mr. Jefferson? Captain Clark&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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!&#8221;</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&mdash;they were to work together yonder in St.
+Louis!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Governor&mdash;General&mdash;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!&#8221;</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&#8217;S ADVICE</h3>
+
+<p style="float: left; font-size: 100%; line-height: 80%; margin-top: 0;">&#8220;</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,&#8221; said Thomas Jefferson, when at length they two were
+alone once more in the little office, &#8220;I cannot say what your return
+means to me. You come as one from the grave&mdash;you resurrect another
+from the grave.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Meaning, Mr. Jefferson?&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I heard some talk in the West, Mr. Jefferson,&#8221; hesitated Meriwether
+Lewis.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We are glad that you have been pleased, Mr. Jefferson,&#8221; said Lewis
+simply.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Pleased! Pleased! Say rather that I am saved! Say rather that this
+country is saved! Had you proved disloyal to me&mdash;had you for any cause
+turned back,&#8221; he went on, &#8220;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&mdash;suppose you had not gotten beyond the Mandans&mdash;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And I nearly did, Mr. Jefferson!&#8221; broke out Meriwether <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span>Lewis. &#8220;Do
+not praise me too much. I was tempted&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The old man turned toward him, his face grave.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are honest! I value that above all in you&mdash;you are punctilious to
+have no praise not honestly won. Listen, now!&#8221; He leaned toward the
+young man, who sat beside him. &#8220;I know&mdash;I knew all along&mdash;how you were
+tempted. She came here&mdash;Theodosia&mdash;the very day you left!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Lewis nodded, mute.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;In some way, I knew, the conspirators fought against your success and
+mine. I knew what agencies they intended to use against you&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;your
+personal honor&mdash;that was what brought us success. No country is bigger
+than the personal honor of its gentlemen.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The bowed head of Meriwether Lewis was his only answer. The keen-faced
+old man went on:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I knew that before you had left the mouth of the Ohio River he would
+do his best to stop you&mdash;I knew it before you had left Harper&#8217;s Ferry;
+but I placed the issue in the lap of the gods. I applied to you all
+the tests&mdash;the severest tests&mdash;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&mdash;all those new thousands of miles of land&mdash;<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>&#8220;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.&#8221;</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>&#8220;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&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Jefferson!&#8221; The young man before him lifted a hand. His face was
+ghastly pale. &#8220;Do not,&#8221; said he. &#8220;Do not, I beg of you!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What is it, Merne?&#8221; exclaimed the old man. &#8220;What have I done?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You speak of my honor. Do not! Indeed, you touch me deep.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Thomas Jefferson, wise old man, raised a hand.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I shall never listen, my son,&#8221; said he. &#8220;I will accord to you the
+right of hot blood to run hot&mdash;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&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Jefferson, I shall never marry.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The two sat looking into each other&#8217;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>&#8220;So! You have come back with all happiness, all success, for me and
+for others&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;the honor of that
+little paper&mdash;bah, they are nothing! But perhaps it may be something
+for you to know that at least one friend understands.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Lewis did not speak.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What is lost is lost,&#8221; the President began again after a time. &#8220;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The smile that came upon the young man&#8217;s face was a beautiful, a
+wonderful thing to see. It made the wise old man sad to see it&mdash;but
+thoughtful, too.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She is at Richmond, Merne?&#8221; said Mr. Jefferson a moment later.</p>
+
+<p>The young man nodded.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And the greatest boon she could ask would be her father&#8217;s
+freedom&mdash;the freedom of the man who sought to ruin this country&mdash;the
+man whom I scarcely dare release.&#8221;</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&mdash;it was but in thought.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now, then,&#8221; said Thomas Jefferson sharply, &#8220;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&mdash;but <i>not for his daughter</i>!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Jefferson!&#8221; The face of Meriwether Lewis was strangely moved. &#8220;I
+see the actual greatness of your soul; but I ask nothing.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&#8217;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&mdash;and king of the greatest empire of all the world! I know well
+who assured that kingdom. Let me be, then&#8221;&mdash;he raised his long
+hand&mdash;&#8220;say nothing, do nothing. And let this end all talk between us
+of these matters. I know you can keep your own counsel.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Lewis bowed silently.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;John
+Randolph is foreman of that jury. It is there that case will be
+tried&mdash;in the jury room; and <i>politics will try it</i>! Go to Theodosia,
+Merne, in her desperate need.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But what can I do, Mr. Jefferson?&#8221; broke out his listener.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do precisely what I tell you. Go to that social outcast. Take her on
+your arm before all the world&mdash;<i>and before that jury</i>! Sit there,
+before all Richmond&mdash;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,&#8221;
+the President concluded, &#8220;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!&#8221;</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&mdash;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&#8217;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&#8217;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&#8217;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>&#8220;Governor, I am delighted to see you, back safe and sound from your
+journey. My congratulations, sir!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Meriwether Lewis made no reply, but gazed at him steadily, well aware
+of the stinging sarcasm of his words.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have few friends now,&#8221; said Aaron Burr. &#8220;You have many. You are on
+the flood tide&mdash;it ebbs for me. When one loses, what mercy is shown to
+him? That scoundrel Merry&mdash;he promised everything and gave nothing!
+Yrujo&mdash;he is worse yet in his treachery. Even the French minister,
+Turreau&mdash;who surely might listen to the wishes of the great French
+population of the Mississippi Valley&mdash;pays no attention to their
+petitions whatever, and none to mine. These were my former friends! I
+promised them a country.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You promised them a country, Colonel Burr&mdash;from what?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;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&mdash;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&mdash;which once he
+was so ready to furnish to us. But Mr. Alston is ruined&mdash;I am
+ruined&mdash;we are all ruined. No, they waited too long!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They waited until it was too late, yes,&#8221; Lewis returned. &#8220;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&mdash;but
+it was hopeless from the first!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It would seem, sir,&#8221; said Aaron Burr, a cynical smile twisting his
+thin lip, &#8220;that I may not count upon your friendship!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That is a hard speech, Colonel Burr. I was your friend.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;More than your chief ever was! I fancy Mr. Jefferson would like to
+see me pilloried, drawn and quartered, after the old way.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are unjust to him. You struck at the greatest ambition of his
+life&mdash;struck at his heart and the heart of his country&mdash;when you
+undertook to separate the West from this republic.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am a plain man, and a busy man,&#8221; said Aaron Burr coldly. &#8220;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&mdash;what suffering&mdash;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!&#8221;</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&mdash;a figure which caused him to halt, caused
+his heart to leap!</p>
+
+<p>She came toward him now, all in mourning black&mdash;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&#8217;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;this had
+been his shield through all. What he saw in her grave face, her
+mournful eyes uplifted to his own&mdash;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&mdash;what? A tall and handsome gentleman, immaculately clad,
+Governor of the newest of our Territories&mdash;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>&#8220;Yea! Yea! Now I know!&#8221;</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&mdash;even if, as both knew in
+their supreme renunciation, they must part and never meet again&mdash;for
+them both there could be peaceful calm, with all life&#8217;s questions
+answered, beautifully and surely answered, never again to rise for
+conquering.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sir&mdash;Captain&mdash;that is to say, Governor Lewis,&#8221; she corrected herself,
+&#8220;I was not expecting you.&#8221;</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&mdash;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&mdash;in their silence&mdash;could they speak. They did
+not know that they stood hand in hand.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My husband is not here,&#8221; said she at length, gently disengaging her
+hand from his. &#8220;No one knows me now, every one avoids me. You must not
+be seen with me&mdash;a pariah, an outcast! I am my father&#8217;s only friend.
+Already they condemn him; yet he is as innocent as any man ever was.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I shall say no word to change that belief,&#8221; said <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span>Meriwether Lewis.
+&#8220;But your husband is not here? It is he whom I must see at once.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why must you see him?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You must know! It is my duty to go to him and to tell him that I am
+the man who&mdash;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&mdash;I shall not ask you to forgive me&mdash;I will
+not be so cheap.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But&mdash;<i>suppose he does not know</i>?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He could only stand silent, regarding her fixedly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He must never know!&#8221; she went on. &#8220;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&mdash;let it bury
+its own dead!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is our time of reckoning,&#8221; said he, at length. &#8220;Guilty as I have
+been, sinning as I have sinned&mdash;tell me, was I alone in the wrong?
+Listen. Those who joined your father&#8217;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?&#8221;</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>&#8220;I shall not answer that!&#8221; said she.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No!&#8221; he exclaimed, swiftly contrite. &#8220;Nor shall I ask it. Forgive me!
+You never knew&mdash;you were innocent. You do right not to answer such a
+question.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;I only wanted you to be happy&mdash;that was my one desire.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She looked aside, and a moment passed before she heard his deep voice
+reply.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Happy! I am the most unhappy man in all the world. Happiness?
+No&mdash;rags, shreds, patches of happiness&mdash;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>My father&#8217;s freedom!</i>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I cannot promise that; but all that I can do I will.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Were my father guilty, that would be the act of a noble mind. But
+how? You are Mr. Jefferson&#8217;s friend, not the friend of Aaron Burr. All
+the world knows that.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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!&#8221;<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>&#8220;That is impossible. What do you mean?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&mdash;give your presence to one who is now a social pariah? The ladies
+of Richmond no longer speak to me. But to what purpose?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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>&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>Ergo</i>, Mr. Jefferson is not hostile to us! And you would do
+that&mdash;you would take that chance?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;For you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And he did&mdash;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&mdash;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&#8217;s
+best friend walked in public, before all the world, with the daughter
+of the President&#8217;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&mdash;and of John Randolph of Roanoke, its foreman&mdash;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&#8217;s friend, and the daughter of the great conspirator, Aaron
+Burr. <i>Ergo, ergo</i>, said many tongues swiftly&mdash;and leaned head to head
+to whisper it. Mind sometimes speaks to mind&mdash;even across the rail of
+a jury-box. Sympathy runs deep and swift sometimes. All the world
+loved Meriwether Lewis then, would favor him&mdash;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>&#8220;How mighty a thing is a man&#8217;s sense of honor!&#8221; she said slowly. &#8220;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&mdash;all your debt
+to me and mine. See, I no longer weep. You have dried my tears!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We cannot balance debits and credits,&#8221; he replied. &#8220;There is no way
+in the world in which you and I can cry quits. Only one thing is
+sure&mdash;I must go!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I cannot say good-by!&#8221; said she. &#8220;Ah, do not ask me that! We are but
+beginning now. Oh, see! see!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He looked at her still, an unspeakable sadness in his gaze&mdash;at her
+hand, extended pleadingly toward him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Won&#8217;t you take my hand, Merne?&#8221; said she. &#8220;Won&#8217;t you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I dare not,&#8221; said he hoarsely. &#8220;No, I dare not!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why? Do you wish to leave me still feeling that I am in your debt?
+You can afford so much now,&#8221; she said brokenly, &#8220;for those who have
+not won!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Think you that I have won?&#8221; he broke out. &#8220;Theodosia&mdash;Theo&mdash;I shall
+call you by your old name just once&mdash;I do not take your hand&mdash;I dare
+not touch you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span>&mdash;because I love you! I always shall. God help me, it is
+the truth!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Did you get my letters?&#8221; 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>&#8220;<i>Letters?</i>&#8221; said he at length. &#8220;<i>What letters?</i>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes looked up at him luminously.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are glorious!&#8221; said she. &#8220;Yes, a woman&#8217;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!&#8221;</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&mdash;they loved him as Governor, since they might not as man.
+Wise, firm, deliberate, kind, sad&mdash;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&#8217;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&mdash;the last
+time&mdash;the great heart of a noble man was pierced.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Will,&#8221; said he to his friend, as they met at William Clark&#8217;s home,
+according to their frequent custom, &#8220;I am in trouble.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Fancied trouble, Merne,&#8221; said Clark. &#8220;You&#8217;re always finding it!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&#8221;&mdash;he held out certain papers
+in his hand&mdash;&#8220;by this morning&#8217;s mail I get back these bills
+protested&mdash;protested by the government at Washington! And they are
+bills that I have drawn to pay the expenses of administering my office
+here.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Tut, tut!&#8221; said William Clark gravely. &#8220;Come, let us see.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;I am a broken man! Did you think that this country could do
+that for either of us?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But Merne, you, the soul of honor&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;also protested, I have no doubt. I am publicly discredited,
+disgraced. I know not what has been said of me at Washington.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That is the trouble,&#8221; said William Clark slowly. &#8220;Washington is so
+far. But now, you must not let this trouble you. &#8217;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&mdash;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&mdash;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. &#8217;Twill all come well!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>This was in the year 1809. Mr. Jefferson&#8217;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>&#8220;You are ill, Governor&mdash;you have the fever of these lands,&#8221; urged that
+worthy. &#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Peria,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis to his French servant and attendant,
+&#8220;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&mdash;three or four hundred dollars, I imagine. I will take some in my
+belt, and give the rest to you for the saddle-trunk.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Your Excellency plans to go by land, then, and not by sea?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I do not know. I must save all the time possible. And Peria&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, Excellency.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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,&#8221; he concluded. &#8220;It was given to me by a friend&mdash;a
+good friend, Mr. Wirt, and I prize it very much&mdash;so much that I fear
+to have it on my person. Care for it in the saddle-trunk.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, Excellency.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do not call me &#8216;Excellency&#8217;&mdash;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.&#8221;</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>&#8220;These papers for Mr. Jefferson, Governor&mdash;certain land-titles, of
+which we spoke to him last year. Do you not remember?&#8221; Thus Chouteau,
+always busy with affairs.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;These samples of cloth and of satin, Governor,&#8221; said a dark-eyed
+French girl, smiling up at him. &#8220;Would you match them for me in the
+East? I am to be married in the spring!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The price of furs&mdash;learn of that, Governor, if you can, while on your
+journey. The embargo has ruined the trade in all this inland country!&#8221;
+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>&#8220;Books, more books, my son!&#8221; implored Dr. Saugrain. &#8220;We are growing
+here&mdash;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&mdash;the fever has you!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My people&mdash;they mourn for me as dead,&#8221; 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. &#8220;Tell the Great Father that he
+must send me soldiers to take me back home to my people. My heart is
+poor!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Governor, see if you can get me an artificial limb of some sort while
+you are in the East.&#8221;</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&mdash;though later, as has
+already been said, he was to become a noted figure at the bar of the
+State of Kentucky.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes! Yes, and yes!&#8221; Their leader, punctilious as he was kind, agreed
+to all these commissions&mdash;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&mdash;a tall man
+with wide mouth and sunny hair, with blue eye and stalwart
+frame&mdash;William Clark&mdash;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&#8217;s
+arms and pressed the child&#8217;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>&#8220;Good-by, Will!&#8221; 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&#8217;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&#8217;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>&#8220;Governor Lewis!&#8221; exclaimed Major Neely, as he met him. &#8220;You are ill!
+You are in an ague!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;I am resolved not to go by sea. I
+have not time.&#8221;</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>&#8220;Major,&#8221; said he, &#8220;I can ride now. Have you horses for the journey?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Are you sure, Governor, that your strength is sufficient?&#8221; 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>&#8220;It is not a question of my personal convenience, Major,&#8221; said
+Meriwether Lewis. &#8220;Time presses for me. I must go on!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;At least you shall not go alone,&#8221; said Major Neely. &#8220;You should have
+some escort. Doubtless you have important papers?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Meriwether Lewis nodded.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My servant has arranged everything, I fancy. Can you get an extra man
+or two? The Natchez Trace is none too safe.&#8221;</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>&#8220;He talks to himself all the time,&#8221; said one of the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span>party&mdash;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&#8217;s craft all the way down the river&mdash;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>&#8220;What is wrong with the Governor, think you?&#8221; inquired this man once
+more of Peria, Lewis&#8217;s servant.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is his way,&#8221; shrugged Peria. &#8220;We leave him alone. His hand is
+heavy when he is angry.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He rides always with his rifle across his saddle?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Always, on the trail.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Loaded, I presume&mdash;and his pistols?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You may well suppose that,&#8221; said Peria.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, well,&#8221; said the new member of the party, &#8220;&#8217;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Naturally,&#8221; 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>&#8220;Now it&#8217;s an odd thing about his coat,&#8221; volunteered the stranger later
+in that same day. &#8220;He always keeps it on&mdash;that ragged old uniform. Was
+it a uniform, do you believe? Can&#8217;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&#8217;s a dozen years old,
+you might say.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He always wears it on the trail,&#8221; said Peria. &#8220;At home he watches it
+as if it held some treasure.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Treasure?&#8221; The shifty eyes of the new man flashed in sudden interest.
+&#8220;What treasure? Papers, perhaps&mdash;bills&mdash;documents&mdash;money? His pocket
+bulges at the side. Something there&mdash;yes, eh?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hush!&#8221; said Peria. &#8220;You do not know that man, the Governor. He has
+the eye of a hawk, the ear of a fox&mdash;you can keep nothing from him. He
+fears nothing in the world, and in his moods&mdash;you&#8217;d best leave him
+alone. Don&#8217;t let him suspect, or&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; 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>&#8220;I have told you to be more careful, Peria,&#8221; expostulated Governor
+Lewis. &#8220;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And what of you, Governor?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The first white man&#8217;s house beyond here,&#8221; answered Neely, &#8220;belongs to
+an old man named Grinder. &#8217;Tis no more than a few miles ahead. Suppose
+we join you there?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Agreed,&#8221; 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&mdash;Mrs. Grinder, she announced herself.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Madam,&#8221; he inquired, &#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My husband is not here,&#8221; said the woman. &#8220;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A half-dozen, with an extra horse or two.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I reckon we can fix ye up. Light down and come in.&#8221;</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&mdash;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&mdash;and she neither knew nor asked, for the
+wilderness tavern held no register, and few questions were asked or
+answered&mdash;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>&#8220;Set up and eat,&#8221; she said at last. &#8220;I reckon your men are not
+coming.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I thank you, Madam,&#8221; said the stranger, with gentle courtesy. &#8220;Do not
+let me trouble you too much. I have been ill of late, and do not as
+yet experience much hunger.&#8221;</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>&#8220;Is it not a beautiful world, Madam?&#8221; said he, after a time, in a
+voice of great gentleness and charm. &#8220;I have seen the forest often
+thus in the West in the evening, when the day was done. It is
+wonderful!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes. Some of my folks is thinking of going out further into the
+West.&#8221;</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>&#8220;A wonderful country, Madam!&#8221; 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>&#8220;It is not necessary,&#8221; said he. &#8220;I have slept so much in the open that
+&#8217;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Peria, it seemed, had by this time found his way to the cabin along
+the trail. He was alone.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Come, man!&#8221; said Lewis. &#8220;Make down my bed for me&mdash;I am ill. And tell
+me, where is my powder? Where are the bullets for my pistols? I find
+them empty. Haven&#8217;t I told you to be more careful about these things?
+And where is my rifle-powder? The canister is here, but &#8217;tis empty.
+Come, come, I must have better service than this!&#8221;</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>&#8220;I must have a place to write,&#8221; said he at length. &#8220;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?&#8221;</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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;nay, indeed, as if he saw some one&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;something about the sound of water. He lifted his
+head and listened. Yes, there was a sound coming faintly through the
+night&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;and his
+fingers were dark.</p>
+
+<p>He was bleeding from three wounds; but still he stood and spoke to
+her.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;In God&#8217;s name, Madam,&#8221; said he, &#8220;bring me water! I am killed!&#8221;</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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;some things which
+no other eyes than his must ever see! Here was a secret&mdash;it must
+always be a secret&mdash;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&mdash;six
+times in all! One by one he had placed them on the flames&mdash;these
+letters that he had carried on his heart for years&mdash;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&mdash;<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&#8217;s
+voice. What was it that she said? He bent his head as if to listen.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Your wish&mdash;your great desire&mdash;your hope&mdash;your dream&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>So then she had known&mdash;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&mdash;he had so greatly desired&mdash;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&mdash;stained as they were with blood that dropped from his veins as
+he bent above them&mdash;carried them down upon the tiny thread of the
+little brook. It carried them away toward the sea&mdash;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>&#8220;In God&#8217;s name, Madam,&#8221; said he, &#8220;bring me water&mdash;wine! I am so
+strong, I am hard to die! Bind up my wounds&mdash;I have work to do! Heal
+me these wounds!&#8221;</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>&#8220;Peria,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis, turning his fading eye on the man, &#8220;do
+not fear me. I will not hurt you. But my watch&mdash;I cannot find it&mdash;it
+seems gone. I am hard to die, it seems. But the little watch&mdash;it
+had&mdash;a&mdash;picture&mdash;Ah!&#8221;</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>&#8220;Your son was a brave man&mdash;he lived long,&#8221; said Peria, haltingly, at
+the close of his story.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; said the mother of Meriwether Lewis. &#8220;He was a brave man. He
+was strong!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He was unhappy; but why he should have killed himself&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Stop!&#8221; The dark eyes blazed upon him. &#8220;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!&#8221;</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&mdash;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>&#8220;Madam,&#8221; said he, when finally he stood at the side of the mistress of
+Locust Hall, &#8220;it is heavy news I thought to bring&mdash;I see that you have
+heard it. What shall I say&mdash;what can we say to each other? I mourn him
+as if he were my own son.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It has come at last,&#8221; said the mother of Meriwether Lewis. &#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Whom had he ever harmed?&#8221; she demanded of Jefferson.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;bear with me if I tell you that
+could your son send out the news himself, perhaps he might say &#8217;twas
+by his own hand he perished, and not by that of another!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Never, Mr. Jefferson, never will I believe that! It was not in his
+nature!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He never wronged a woman in his life&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Precisely, nor in his death would he wrong one! Do you begin to see?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Did he ever speak to you of her?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But shall I let that stain rest on his name?&#8221; The dark eye of the old
+woman gleamed upon her son&#8217;s friend.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do not I love him also? I am speaking now only of his own wish&mdash;not
+ours. I know that he would shield her at any cost&mdash;nay, I know he did
+shield her at any cost. May not we shield him&mdash;and her&mdash;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&mdash;and who shall tell the exact truth?&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Jefferson was silent for a moment, holding the bereaved mother&#8217;s hand
+in his own.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He shall have a monument, madam,&#8221; he went on. &#8220;It shall mark his
+grave in yonder wilderness. They shall name at least a county for him,
+and hold it his sacred grave-place&mdash;there in Tennessee, by the old
+Indian road. Let him lie there under the trees&mdash;that is as he would
+wish. He shall have some monument&mdash;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.&#8221;</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&mdash;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&#8217;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>&#8220;I hope to be happy in the next world, for I have not been
+bad in this.&#8221;</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&#8217;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;while our sons measure to the stature of
+such a man.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+
+<div class="centerbox2 bbox">
+
+<p class="center">
+&#8220;<i>The Books You Like to Read</i><br />
+<i>at the Price You Like to Pay</i>&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr class="largest" />
+
+<h2>There Are Two Sides<br />
+to Everything&mdash;</h2>
+
+<p>&mdash;including the wrapper which covers
+every Grosset &amp; 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 &amp; Dunlap book wrapper.<br />
+<br />
+You will find more than five hundred
+titles to choose from&mdash;books for every
+mood and every taste and every pocket-book.<br />
+<br />
+<i>Don&#8217;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 &amp; 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">&nbsp;</div>
+
+<h3>EMERSON HOUGH&#8217;S NOVELS</h3>
+
+<div class="double">&nbsp;</div>
+
+<p>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset &amp; Dunlap&#8217;s list.</p>
+
+<div class="double">&nbsp;</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&#8217;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&#8217;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">&nbsp;</div>
+
+<h4>GROSSET &amp; DUNLAP, <span class="smcap">Publishers</span>, NEW YORK</h4>
+
+<div class="double3">&nbsp;</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>&#8220;Thomas Jefferson asks the favor of Mr. Merry to dine with a small
+party of friends on Monday, the 13th, at half past three.&#8221;</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>&#8220;If Mr. Merry should be mistaken as to the meaning of Mr. Jefferson&#8217;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&#8217;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&#8217;s ministers.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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.&#8221;</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>&#8220;Mr. Madison presents his compliments to Mr. Merry. He has
+communicated to the President Mr. Merry&#8217;s note of this morning, and
+has the honor to remark to him that the President&#8217;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&#8217;s company
+at dinner on Monday next.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Madison tenders to Mr. Merry his distinguished consideration.&#8221;</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&#8217;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 &#8220;lend his assistance
+to his majesty&#8217;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.&#8221;</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>&#8220;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.&#8221;</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&mdash;one of them just thirty years old, the other thirty-four&mdash;should
+rank among the epic literature of the world. Battered about,
+scattered, separated, lost, hawked from hand to hand, handed down as
+unvalued heritages, &#8220;edited&#8221; first by this and then by that little
+man, sometimes to the extent of actual mutilation or alteration of
+their text&mdash;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&#8217;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&#8217;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&mdash;the wild placer days
+of gold-mining in Montana.</p>
+
+<p>As for Sacajawea, she has a monument&mdash;a very poor and inadequate
+one&mdash;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&mdash;some call
+it nothing less than providential&mdash;which brought the white men through
+in safety.</p>
+
+<p>Trace this Indian girl&#8217;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&mdash;John Randolph of Roanoke. Irascible, high-voiced,
+high-headed, truculent, insolent, vitriolic&mdash;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&mdash;it was always certain
+that John Randolph of Roanoke would do what he liked, and do what&mdash;for
+that present time&mdash;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&#8217;s Note:</span></h3>
+
+<p>Minor changes have been made to correct obvious typesetters&#8217; errors;
+otherwise, every effort has been made to remain true to the author&#8217;s
+words and intent.</p>
+
+<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30298 ***</div>
+</body>
+</html>
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+This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
+Procedures for determining public domain status are described in
+the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org.
+
+No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in
+jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize
+this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright
+status under the laws that apply to them.
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #30298 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/30298)
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Magnificent Adventure, by Emerson Hough
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Magnificent Adventure
+       Being the Story of the World's Greatest Exploration and
+       the Romance of a Very Gallant Gentleman
+
+Author: Emerson Hough
+
+Illustrator: Arthur I. Keller
+
+Release Date: October 20, 2009 [EBook #30298]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAGNIFICENT ADVENTURE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by D Alexander and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
+produced from images generously made available by The
+Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ THE
+
+ MAGNIFICENT
+
+ ADVENTURE
+
+ _Being the Story of the World's
+ Greatest Exploration and the
+ Romance of a Very Gallant
+ Gentleman._
+
+ A NOVEL
+
+ BY
+ EMERSON HOUGH
+
+ AUTHOR OF
+
+ THE COVERED WAGON,
+ NORTH OF 36, ETC.
+
+ ILLUSTRATED BY
+ ARTHUR I. KELLER
+
+ NEW YORK
+ GROSSET & DUNLAP
+ PUBLISHERS
+
+ Made in the United States of America
+
+
+
+
+ COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY
+ EMERSON HOUGH
+
+ COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY THE FRANK A. MUNSEY COMPANY
+
+ Printed in the United States of America
+
+
+
+
+ [Illustration: "'Him Ro'shones,' replied the girl"
+ [PAGE 219]]
+
+
+
+
+ TO
+ ROBERT H. DAVIS
+ GOOD FRIEND
+ INVALUABLE COLLABORATOR
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+ PART I
+
+ CHAPTER                                                   PAGE
+
+      I. MOTHER AND SON                                      3
+
+     II. MERIWETHER AND THEODOSIA                           15
+
+    III. MR. BURR AND MR. MERRY                             30
+
+     IV. PRESIDENT AND SECRETARY                            36
+
+      V. THE PELL-MELL AND SOME CONSEQUENCES                47
+
+     VI. THE GREAT CONSPIRACY                               71
+
+    VII. COLONEL BURR AND HIS DAUGHTER                      86
+
+   VIII. THE PARTING                                        94
+
+     IX. MR. THOMAS JEFFERSON                              105
+
+      X. THE THRESHOLD OF THE WEST                         117
+
+     XI. THE TAMING OF PATRICK GASS                        128
+
+    XII. CAPTAIN WILLIAM CLARK                             137
+
+   XIII. UNDER THREE FLAGS                                 143
+
+    XIV. THE RENT IN THE ARMOR                             153
+
+ PART II
+
+      I. UNDER ONE FLAG                                    167
+
+     II. THE MYSTERIOUS LETTER                             182
+
+    III. THE DAY'S WORK                                    191
+
+     IV. THE CROSSROADS OF THE WEST                        199
+
+      V. THE APPEAL                                        208
+
+     VI. WHICH WAY?                                        218
+
+    VII. THE MOUNTAINS                                     230
+
+   VIII. TRAIL'S END                                       241
+
+     IX. THE SUMMONS                                       250
+
+      X. THE ABYSS                                         256
+
+     XI. THE BEE                                           272
+
+    XII. WHAT VOICE HAD CALLED?                            280
+
+   XIII. THE NEWS                                          292
+
+    XIV. THE GUESTS OF A NATION                            300
+
+     XV. MR. JEFFERSON'S ADVICE                            308
+
+    XVI. THE QUALITY OF MERCY                              316
+
+   XVII. THE FRIENDS                                       328
+
+  XVIII. THE WILDERNESS                                    336
+
+    XIX. DOWN TO THE SEA                                   351
+
+
+
+
+ LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+ "'Him Ro'shones,' replied the girl"            _Frontispiece_
+
+                                                    FACING PAGE
+
+ "'Mistah Thomas Jeffahson!' was his sole announcement"     50
+
+ "'Oh, Theo, what have I done?'"                           162
+
+ "Her face indeed!"                                        252
+
+
+
+
+ THE
+ MAGNIFICENT ADVENTURE
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+MOTHER AND SON
+
+
+A 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 _outré_
+among a people so often called to the chase or to war.
+
+His tunic was of dressed deer hide, his well-fitting leggings also of
+that material. His feet were covered 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+He was right. The strong figure in the chair did not start away. No
+exclamation came from the straight mouth of the face now turned
+toward him. Evidently the nerves of these two were not of the sort
+readily stampeded.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+"You are late, yes."
+
+"And you waited--so long?"
+
+"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.
+
+"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 back
+in time, because you told me that you would."
+
+"And you did not fear for me, then--gone overnight in the woods?" He
+half smiled at that thought himself.
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+"I did not desert my duty, mother," said he at length.
+
+"Oh, no, you would not do that, Merne!" returned the widow.
+
+"Please, mother," said he suddenly, "I want you to call me by my full
+name--that of your people. Am I not Meriwether, too?"
+
+The hand on his forehead ceased its gentle movement, fell to its
+owner's lap. A sigh passed his mother's set lips.
+
+"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?"
+
+"I am Meriwether Lewis, mother," said he gravely, and no more.
+
+"Yes!" She spoke absently, musingly. "Yes, you always were!"
+
+"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."
+
+"I know that, my son, yes. You were born for the forest. I fear I
+shall not hold you long on this quiet farm."
+
+"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."
+
+"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?"
+
+He looked around at her rather gravely once again, unsmilingly, for he
+rarely smiled.
+
+"How do you know, mother? What do you know? Tell me--about myself!
+Then I will tell you also. We shall see how we agree as to what I am
+and what I ought to do!"
+
+"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."
+
+The youth did not move as she sat, her hands on his head. Her voice
+went on, even and steady.
+
+"You are old, Meriwether Lewis! It is time, now. You are a man. You
+_always_ 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!"
+
+He remained motionless, apparently unaffected, as his mother went on.
+
+"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. 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 _stood_, 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."
+
+She paused, but still he did not speak.
+
+"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!"
+
+"You were better named Cassandra, mother!" Yet the young man scarce
+smiled even now.
+
+"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 and that resolution, all
+these combined, must spell for you. You know how his heart was racked
+at times?"
+
+The boy nodded now.
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+"Tragedy is yours, my son," said she, slowly, "not happiness. No woman
+will ever come and lie in your arms happy and content."
+
+"Mother!"
+
+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.
+
+"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
+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!"
+
+She sighed, shivered, and looked about her, startled, as if she had
+spoken aloud in some dream.
+
+"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."
+
+"You give me no long shrift, mother?" said the youth, with a twinkle
+in his eye.
+
+"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!"
+
+There was a long silence; then the widow continued.
+
+"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."
+
+Again silence fell between them before she went on, her hand again
+resting on her son's dark hair.
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+He rose now, and, silently as he had come, passed around the end of
+the wide gallery.
+
+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 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.
+
+That was the time when the mother of Meriwether Lewis gave him to his
+fate--his fate, so closely linked with yours and mine.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+MERIWETHER AND THEODOSIA
+
+
+Soft 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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+Arcturus could not tell. He could but prance insinuatingly, his ears
+forward, his head tossed, his eye now and again turned about,
+inquiring.
+
+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.
+
+A bevy of partridges, feeding at dawn along the 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Her dark hair--cut rather squarely across her forehead 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"Can you then call it good fortune?" His own voice was low,
+suppressed.
+
+"Why not, then?"
+
+"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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"And I also."
+
+"And there was the serpent."
+
+"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?"
+
+"Captain Meriwether Lewis is singularly gloomy this morning!"
+
+"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."
+
+"For both of us?"
+
+"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?"
+
+"And you followed me? Ah!"
+
+"I suppose I did, and yet I did not. If I did I knew I was riding to
+my fate."
+
+She would have spoken--her lips half parted--but what she might have
+said none heard.
+
+He went on:
+
+"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."
+
+"You have never spoken aught else to any human soul. That I know."
+
+"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!"
+
+Her face was troubled. She looked aside as she replied in a voice low,
+but firm:
+
+"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."
+
+"I know that," he said simply.
+
+"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 did not have enemies, no matter how
+clean her life has been."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"I trust Captain Meriwether Lewis," she replied.
+
+They advanced silently, and presently came in sight of a little
+cascade above a rocky shallowing of the stream. Below this, after
+they had splashed through the ford, they saw the gray stone walls of
+Rock Creek Mill.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The sun drew gently up in the heavens, screened by the waving trees.
+The ripple of the stream was very sweet.
+
+"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."
+
+"A sinless Eden, sir."
+
+"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."
+
+"Going away--where, then, my friend?"
+
+"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!"
+
+"But you will--you will come back again?"
+
+"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!"
+
+"You would never doubt my faith in my husband."
+
+"No! Of course, you love your husband. I could not look at you a
+second time if you did not."
+
+"You are a good man, Meriwether Lewis!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"She meant, Meriwether Lewis, that you were a 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----"
+
+"And a woman may divide not love, only love of love itself?"
+
+"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."
+
+"And what then?"
+
+"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."
+
+She spoke softly, and the color of her cheek, still rising, told of
+her self-reproof.
+
+He turned suddenly at this, a wonderfully sweet smile now upon his
+face.
+
+"As long as I can?"
+
+"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."
+
+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:
+
+"I want to see you happy after a time--with some good woman at your
+side--your children by you--in 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!"
+
+He shook his head.
+
+"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."
+
+"Fie! I will not have such talk on a morning like this."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+She raised her cup and saluted laughingly.
+
+"A good journey, Meriwether Lewis," said she, "and a happy return from
+it! Cast away such melancholy--you will forget all this!"
+
+"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."
+
+"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----"
+
+"As----"
+
+"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?"
+
+"More likely six years. If there is healing for me, the wilderness
+alone must give it."
+
+"I shall be an old woman--old and sallow from the Carolina suns. You
+will have forgotten me then."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+He raised a hand.
+
+"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 be for me forever after! That thought, it
+seems to me, I could not endure."
+
+"Go, then, my savage gentleman, and let me----"
+
+"And let you never see my face again?"
+
+She rose and stood looking at him, her own eyes wet with a sudden
+moisture.
+
+"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!"
+
+"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?"
+
+He swung into his saddle, reined his horse about, turned and bowed
+formally to his late _vis-à-vis_, 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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+MR. BURR AND MR. MERRY
+
+
+The 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.
+
+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.
+
+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 horseman.
+His own garb and face showed not the slightest proof that he had been
+riding hard.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+The young Virginian bowed to both gentlemen.
+
+"I have persuaded his excellency the minister from Great Britain to
+ride with us on one of our Washington mornings. He has been good
+enough to say--to say--that he enjoys it!"
+
+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.
+
+"Yes," said the envoy, "to be sure I recall the young man. I met him
+in the anteroom at the President's house."
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+"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 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."
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"Say not so!" said Burr, laughing. "Better--he rides like a
+Virginian!"
+
+"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----"
+
+"You know well enough how far I agree with you," said Burr somberly.
+
+"'Tis an experiment, our republic, I am willing to say that boldly to
+you, at least. How long it may last----"
+
+"Depends on men like you," said Merry, suddenly 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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"How then, Mr. Minister?"
+
+"One for her father----"
+
+Aaron Burr bowed.
+
+"Yes, her father first, as I verily believe. What then?"
+
+"The second for her husband----"
+
+"Certainly. Mr. Alston is a rising man. He has a thousand slaves on
+his plantations--he is one of the richest of the rich South
+Carolinian planters. And in politics he has a chance--more than a
+chance. But after that?"
+
+"The third portion of so charming a woman's heart might perhaps be
+assigned to Captain Meriwether Lewis!"
+
+"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."
+
+"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.
+
+Burr did not answer, and they rode on.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+PRESIDENT AND SECRETARY
+
+
+There 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.
+
+"You-all suttinly did warm old Arcturum a li'l bit dis mawnin', Mistah
+Mehywethah!"
+
+Samson patted the neck of the spirited animal, which tossed its head
+and turned an eye to its late rider.
+
+"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.
+
+"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!"
+
+The young man answered the negro's compliment 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Good morning, Mr. Jefferson," said Meriwether Lewis, in the greeting
+which he always used.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Grandly, sir. He is a fine animal. I have never ridden a better."
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Here was a man, all said who knew him, of whose 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"Mr. Jefferson--" he began, but paused, for he could see now standing
+before him his friend, the man whom, of all in the world, he loved,
+and the man who believed in him and loved him.
+
+"Yes, my son?"
+
+"Your burden is grievous hard, and yet----"
+
+"Yes, my son?"
+
+But Meriwether Lewis could not speak further. He stood now, his jaws
+set hard, looking out of the window.
+
+The older man came and gently laid a hand upon his shoulder.
+
+"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."
+
+Lewis only turned on him an eye so full of anguish as caused the older
+man to knit his brow in deep concern.
+
+"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!"
+
+The young man did not speak.
+
+"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 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."
+
+But still Meriwether could only look into the face of his superior.
+
+"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?"
+
+"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!"
+
+The older man stood looking at him for a time in silence, as he went
+on hurriedly:
+
+"I must say good-by to you, best and noblest of men. Indeed, I have
+said good-by to--everything."
+
+"As you say, your case is hopeless?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"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?"
+
+"I asked you when I was a boy to send me, but you could not then."
+
+"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. 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!"
+
+They stood there, two men who made our great adventure for
+us--vision-seers, vision-owned, gazing each into the other's eyes.
+
+"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."
+
+The old man laid a kindly hand upon his shoulder.
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Done!" said he.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"I told them," said he, "to loose a half-dozen birds at once. See!
+See!"
+
+He unrolled from one leg of the prisoner a little cylinder of paper
+covered with tinfoil and tied firmly 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.
+
+Mr. Jefferson read, and spread out the paper that his aide might read:
+
+     General Bonaparte signed May 2--Fifteen millions--Rejoice!
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+Thomas Jefferson stretched out his right hand to meet that of
+Meriwether Lewis. Their clasp was strong and firm. The eye of each man
+blazed.
+
+"Mr. Jefferson," said Meriwether Lewis, "this is your monument!"
+
+"And yours," was the reply. "Come, then!"
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+Neither said anything further until once again they were in the
+President's little office-room; but Thomas Jefferson's eye now was
+afire.
+
+"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
+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."
+
+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.
+
+"I give you my promise, Mr. Jefferson," said Meriwether Lewis.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+THE PELL-MELL AND SOME CONSEQUENCES
+
+
+It 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----"
+
+"Yes, my son?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"I thought perhaps I should go to my rooms to change for dinner. You
+see that I am still in riding-clothes."
+
+"And what of that, my son? I am in something worse!"
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+Meriwether Lewis allowed himself a smile.
+
+"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!"
+
+An hour later Meriwether Lewis stood before his narrow mirror, well
+and handsomely clad, as was 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 been heard. The policy of
+pell-mell was not working itself out in any happy social fashion.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"We have no suite, sir. I represent the President as his aide."
+
+"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.
+
+[Illustration: "'Mistah Thomas Jeffahson!' was his sole announcement"]
+
+They turned once more to the Spanish minister, 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.
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Mistah Thomas Jeffahson!" was his sole announcement.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 toward any who were to join him there. There was no
+announcement; there was no _pas_, 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!
+
+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.
+
+Here he was met once more by the party from behind the davenport.
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+Merry turned to his wife, and from her to the wife of the Spanish
+minister.
+
+"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 to sit at table with him! He _cannot_ be the President
+of the United States!"
+
+"None the less he is, Mr. Merry!" the secretary assured him.
+
+"Good Heavens!" said the minister from Great Britain, as he passed on,
+half dazed.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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,
+entirely unconcerned with what he saw. If there was trouble, it was
+for others, not for him.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 remained unsmoothed, and then stood by them for an
+instant, intending to take his departure.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+If the pell-mell dinner was at first a thing inchoate, 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.
+
+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
+_chef de cuisine_, 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:
+
+     Huîtres de Shinnecock, Saulce Tempête
+     Olives du Luc
+     Othon Mariné à l'Huile Vierge
+     Amandes et Cerneaux Salés
+     Pot au Feu du Roy "Henriot"
+     Croustade Mogador
+     Truite de Ruisselet, Belle Meunière
+     Pommes en Fines Herbes
+     Fricot de tendre Poulet en Coquemare, au Vieux Chanturgne
+     Tourte de Ris de Veau, Financière
+     Baron de Pré Salé aux Primeurs
+     Sorbet des Comtes de Champagne
+     Dinde Sauvage flambée devant les Sarments de Vigne,
+       flanquée d'Ortolans
+     Aspic de Foie Gras Lucullus
+     Salade des Nymphes à la Lamballe
+     Asperges Chauldes enduites de Sauce
+     Lombardienne
+     Dessert et Fruits de la Réunion
+     Fromage de Bique
+     Café Arabe
+     Larmes de Juliette
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"There may be many things here you have not expected, your
+excellency," said Mr. Burr.
+
+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 another speak freely what he wished to hear,
+himself reticent the while.
+
+The face of the English dignitary clouded again.
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+"Give me leave, sir," continued Merry. "This republic, what is it?
+What has it done?"
+
+"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 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!"
+
+Señor Yrujo helped himself to a brimming glass of his own wine.
+
+"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!"
+
+"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?"
+
+He spoke to men heated with wine, smarting under social indignity, men
+owning a hurt personal vanity.
+
+"Our past is proof enough," said Merry proudly.
+
+Yrujo needed no more than a shrug.
+
+"Divide and conquer?" Burr went on, looking at them, and raising an
+eyebrow in query.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Divide that unknown country, the West, and how long would this
+republic endure?" said Aaron Burr.
+
+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.
+
+"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 flag all the territory which they have reached on
+their Western trading routes. I go with you that far."
+
+Merry turned upon Burr suddenly a deep and estimating eye.
+
+"I begin to see," said he, "that you are open to conviction, Mr.
+Burr."
+
+"Not open to conviction," said Aaron Burr, "but already convinced!"
+
+"What do you mean, Colonel Burr?" The Englishman bent toward him,
+frowning in intentness.
+
+"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."
+
+"Where, then, could we meet after this is over?"
+
+The minister from Great Britain surely was not beyond close and ready
+estimate of events.
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+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
+his place. The dinner had drawn toward its close.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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, 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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"More than a year ago I once more chose a messenger 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."
+
+He turned his gaze contemplatively down the long table. The gaze of
+many of his guests followed his, still wonderingly, as he went on.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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 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."
+
+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.
+
+"And now for my news," he said at length. "Here you have it!"
+
+He waved once more the little scrap of paper.
+
+"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.
+
+"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, unowned--indeed, virgin territory so far as
+definite title was concerned.
+
+"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.
+
+"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:
+
+     "General Bonaparte signed May 2--Fifteen millions--Rejoice!"
+
+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.
+
+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 table, and then at that of the silent young man whom Mr.
+Jefferson had publicly honored.
+
+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.
+
+"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!
+
+"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 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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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!
+
+"Gentlemen, I give you a toast--Captain Meriwether Lewis!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE GREAT CONSPIRACY
+
+
+The 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.
+
+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.
+
+"Do you forget your friends so soon? I must add my good wishes. It was
+splendid, what Mr. Jefferson said--and it was true!"
+
+"I wish it might be true," said the young man. "I wish I might be
+worthy of such a man."
+
+"You are worthy of us all," returned Theodosia.
+
+"People are kind to the condemned," said he sententiously.
+
+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.
+
+"My dear," said Mr. Merry to his irate spouse, "I 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."
+
+The Spanish minister made similar excuse to his own wife. Thus
+Theodosia Alston left Meriwether Lewis for the second time that day.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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.[1] I shall ask him whether
+or not there is to be any repetition of this sort of thing."
+
+[Footnote 1: 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:
+
+"Thomas Jefferson asks the favor of Mr. Merry to dine with a small
+party of friends on Monday, the 13th, at half past three."
+
+Mr. Merry, still smarting all these months, stood on his dignity and
+addressed his reply to the Secretary of State.
+
+Reviewing at some length what seemed to him important events, he
+added:
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+The Secretary of State, who seems to have been acting as social
+secretary to Mr. Jefferson, without hesitation replied as follows:
+
+"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.
+
+"Mr. Madison tenders to Mr. Merry his distinguished consideration."
+
+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.]
+
+"So much for the rule of the plain people!" said Burr, as he laid the
+tips of his fingers together contemplatively.
+
+"Yet, Colonel Burr, you are Vice-President under this administration!"
+broke out Merry.
+
+"One must use agencies and opportunities as they 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."
+
+"Sir," said the British minister, "you have been a student of
+affairs."
+
+"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--_but not under the flag of this republic!_"
+
+Silence greeted his remark. The others sat for a moment, merely
+gazing at him, half stunned, remembering only that he was Jefferson's
+colleague, Vice-President of the United States.
+
+"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."
+
+"You will explain more fully, Colonel Burr?" Mr. Merry was intent now
+on all that he heard.
+
+"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 the Appalachians, or to drive it once more into the sea."
+
+They were silent alike before the enormousness and the enormity of
+this. Reading their thoughts, Burr raised his hand in deprecation.
+
+"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."
+
+"What you say, Mr. Burr," began Merry gravely, "assuredly has the
+merit of audacity. And I see that you have given it thought."
+
+"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?"
+
+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 it is to be said that he was there to represent the
+interests of his own government alone.
+
+In the same even tones, Burr resumed his astonishing statements.
+
+"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."
+
+"So, then," began Yrujo, "the financing is somewhat forward! But fifty
+thousand is only a drop."
+
+"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."
+
+"Your funds," said Mr. Merry, "seem to me inadequate for the demands
+which will be made upon them. You said fifty thousand?"
+
+Burr nodded.
+
+"I pledge you as much more--on one condition that I shall name."
+
+Burr turned from Mr. Merry to Señor Yrujo. The latter nodded.
+
+"I undertake to contribute the same amount," said the envoy of Spain,
+"but with no condition attached."
+
+The color deepened in the cheek of the great conspirator. His eye
+glittered a trifle more brilliantly.
+
+"You named a certain condition, sir," he said to Merry.
+
+"Yes, one entirely obvious."
+
+"What is it, then, your excellency?" Burr inquired.
+
+"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!"
+
+"Yes, your excellency," said Burr, "I agree with you, but----"
+
+"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."
+
+Burr nodded, his lips compressed.
+
+"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!"
+
+"All that your excellency has said tallies entirely with our own
+beliefs," rejoined Burr. "But what then? What is the condition?"
+
+"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!"
+
+Burr sat in silence for a time.
+
+"You open up a singular train of thought for me, your excellency,"
+said he at length. "He does belong with us, that young Virginian!"
+
+"You know him, then?" inquired the British minister. "That is to say,
+you know him well?"
+
+"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."
+
+"How, then?" inquired Merry.
+
+"The way of a woman with a man may always be the answer in matters of
+that sort!" said Aaron Burr.
+
+The three sat and looked each at the other for some time without
+comment.
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"Then even the unusual weapon you suggest might not avail!" Mr.
+Merry's smile was not altogether pleasant.
+
+"Women would listen to him readily, I think," remarked Yrujo.
+
+"Gallant in his way, yes," said Burr.
+
+"Then what do you mean by saying something about the way of a woman
+with a man?"
+
+"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."
+
+"You reason well," said Merry. "But while men are mortal, yonder, if I
+mistake not, is a gentleman."
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+"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 chivalry or his sense of justice. His reasons must be
+honest to him. They must be honest to her alike."
+
+Burr added this last virtuously, and Mr. Merry bowed deeply in return.
+
+"This is not only honorable of you, Colonel Burr, but logical."
+
+"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?"
+
+"We have left out of our accounting one factor," said Burr after a
+time.
+
+"What, then?"
+
+"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.[2] Now, 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!'"
+
+[Footnote 2: 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.]
+
+"When could we learn?" demanded the British minister.
+
+"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."
+
+"But he starts at dawn!" smiled Minister Merry.
+
+"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?"
+
+The British minister was businesslike and definite.
+
+"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.[3] 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."
+
+[Footnote 3: 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."
+
+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:
+
+"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."]
+
+The dark eye of Aaron Burr flashed.
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+"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."
+
+The others rose. The hour was past midnight. The secret conference had
+been a long one.
+
+"He starts tomorrow--is that sure?" asked Merry.
+
+"As the clock," rejoined Burr. "She must see him before the breakfast
+hour."
+
+"My compliments, Colonel Burr. Good night!"
+
+"Good night, sir," added Yrujo. "It has been a strange day."
+
+"Secrecy, gentlemen, secrecy! I hope soon to have more news for you,
+and good news, too. _Au revoir!_"
+
+Burr himself accompanied them to the door.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+COLONEL BURR AND HIS DAUGHTER
+
+
+One 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.
+
+"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?"
+
+He still paced the floor until he heard a light _frou-frou_ 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.
+
+"What is it, father--are you ill?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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 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?
+
+"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!"
+
+He caught Theodosia's look of surprise, her start, the swift flush on
+her cheek--and laughed lightly.
+
+"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."
+
+"It seems that you value him more now than once you did."
+
+"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 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."
+
+"What woman, father?"
+
+A flush came to her pale cheek. Her father turned to her directly, his
+own piercing gaze aflame.
+
+"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!"
+
+She swiftly turned her head aside, not answering.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Do you believe that of me--and you my father?"
+
+"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?"
+
+"There would be prospects for him?"
+
+"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?"
+
+Troubled, again she turned her gaze aside.
+
+"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?"
+
+Still her downcast eye gave him no reply.
+
+"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.
+
+"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. 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.
+
+"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, _and for the sake of that young man yonder_, you should not
+go to him immediately and carry my message."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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 have chosen
+the only one in all the world who might undertake this errand with the
+slightest prospect of success."
+
+"What can I do, father?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"Treachery? No, it is statesmanship, it is service to mankind!"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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! I have not slept tonight," he added, passing a hand across
+his forehead.
+
+"There will be no more sleep for me tonight," was her reply.
+
+"You will see him in the morning?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+THE PARTING
+
+
+There 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.
+
+"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."
+
+The President tapped a long forefinger on the map.
+
+"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 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."
+
+Meriwether Lewis listened in silence. Mr. Jefferson turned to another
+branch of his theme.
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+Indeed, the sun was rising over Washington, the mists of morning were
+reeking along the banks of the Potomac.
+
+"I can start in half an hour," replied Meriwether Lewis.
+
+"Are your men ready, your supplies gathered together?"
+
+"The rendezvous is at Harper's Ferry, up the river. The wagons with
+the supplies are ready there. I will 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."
+
+"Spoken like a soldier! It is in your hands. Go then!"
+
+There was one look, one handclasp. The two men parted; nor did they
+meet again for years.
+
+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.
+
+The sun still was young when Meriwether Lewis at length descended the
+steps of the Executive Mansion.
+
+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.
+
+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" 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.
+
+Such was the leader of one of the great expeditions of the world.
+
+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:
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     I will write again on my arrival at Pittsburgh. Adieu, and
+     believe me your affectionate son.
+
+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 steadily, his head
+high, his eye on ahead--a splendid figure of a man.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Mrs. Alston!" he exclaimed, as the carriage came up. "Why are you
+here? Is there any news?"
+
+"Yes, else I could not have come."
+
+"But why have you come? Tell me!"
+
+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.
+
+"Pardon me," said he, and his voice was cold; "I thought I had cut all
+ties."
+
+"Knit them again for my sake, then, Meriwether Lewis! I have brought
+you a summons to return."
+
+"A summons? From whom?"
+
+"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. This expedition can only fail! I implore you not to go upon
+it! Do not let your man's pride drive you!"
+
+She was excited, half sobbing.
+
+"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----"
+
+"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."
+
+"Why did you come thus, unattended? There is something you are
+concealing. Tell me!"
+
+"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."
+
+"You speak well! Go on."
+
+"England is with us, and Spain--they back my father's plans."
+
+He turned now and raised a hand.
+
+"Plans? What plans? I must warn you, I am pledged to my own country's
+service."
+
+"Is not my father also? He is one of the highest officers in the
+government of this country."
+
+"You may tell me more or not, as you like."
+
+"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."
+
+He sat motionless, looking straight ahead, as she went on.
+
+"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."
+
+The color was full in her face. He turned toward her suddenly, his eye
+clouded.
+
+"It is an extraordinary matter in every way which you bring for me,"
+he said slowly; "extraordinary that 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?"
+
+"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----"
+
+"Regard! What do you mean?"
+
+"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."
+
+She was all confusion now. He seemed pitiless.
+
+"I have listened long enough to have my curiosity aroused. I shall
+have somewhat to ponder--on the trail to the West."
+
+"Then you mean that you will go on?"
+
+"Yes!"
+
+"You do not understand----"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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 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!"
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+This time he did not turn back again.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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.
+
+Burr met her at the door. His keen eye read the answer at once.
+
+"You have failed!" said he.
+
+She raised her dark eyes to his, herself silent, mournful.
+
+"What did he say?" demanded Burr.
+
+"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!"
+
+"You failed," said Burr, "because you did not use the right argument
+with him. The next time _you must not fail_. You must use better
+arguments!"
+
+Theodosia stood motionless for an instant, looking at her father, then
+passed back into the house.
+
+"Listen, my daughter," said Burr at length, in his eye a light that
+she never had known before. "You _must_ 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 _must_ 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. _Ask him to come back to Theodosia
+Burr and happiness_--do you understand?"
+
+"Sir," said his daughter, "I think--I think I do not understand!"
+
+He seemed not to hear her--or to toss her answer aside.
+
+"You must try again," said he, "and with the right weapons--the old
+ones, my dear--the old weapons of a woman!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+MR. THOMAS JEFFERSON
+
+
+Not 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.
+
+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.
+
+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 black servants still
+remaining at his country house in Virginia.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+     Provisions                       $4,059.98
+     Wines                             1,296.63
+     Groceries                         1,624.76
+     Fuel                                553.68
+     Secretary                           600.00
+     Servants                          2,014.89
+     Miscellaneous                       433.30
+     Stable                              399.06
+     Dress                               246.05
+     Charities                         1,585.60
+     Pres. House                         226.59
+     Books                               497.41
+     Household expenses                  393.00
+     Monticello--plantation            2,226.45
+          "    --family                1,028.79
+     Loans                               274.00
+     Debts                               529.61
+     Asquisitions--lands bought        2,156.86
+          "      --buildings           3,567.92
+          "      --carriages             363.75
+          "      --furniture             664.10
+
+     Total                           $24,682.45
+
+Mr. Jefferson says in rather shamefaced fashion to his diary:
+
+          I ought by this statement to have cash in
+            hand                                      $183.70
+          But I actually have in hand                  293.00
+          So that the errors of this statement amt
+            to                                         109.20
+
+     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.
+
+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 and marvelously
+varied activities he finds time to leave for us such records as these:
+
+     Mr. Remsen tells me that six cord of hickory last a
+     fireplace well the winter.
+
+     Myrtle candles of last year out.
+
+     Pd Farren an impudent surcharge for Venetn blinds, 2.66.
+
+     Borrowed of Mr. Maddison order on bank for 150d.
+
+     Enclosed to D. Rittenhouse, Lieper's note of 238.57d, out of
+     which he is to pay for equatorial instrument for me.
+
+     Hitzeimer says that a horse well fed with grain requires 100
+     lb. of hay, and without grain 130 lb.
+
+     T. N. Randolph has had 9 galls. whisky for his harvest.
+
+     My first pipe of Termo is out--begun soon after I came home
+     to live from Philadelphia.
+
+     Agreed with Robt. Chuning to serve me as overseer at
+     Monticello for £25 and 600 lb. pork. He is to come Dec. 1.
+
+     Agreed with ---- Bohlen to give 300 _livres tournois_ for my
+     bust made by Ceracchi, if he shall agree to take that sum.
+
+     My daughter Maria married this day.
+
+     March 16--The first shad at this market today.
+
+     March 28--The weeping willow shows the green leaf.
+
+     April 9--Asparagus come to table.
+
+     April 10--Apricots blossom.
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+As to the code of official etiquette which we have seen to exist in
+Washington, the President himself was responsible for it, for we
+have, written out in his own delicate hand, the following explicit
+instructions:
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+And so on, through reams and reams of a strange man's life records.
+
+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:
+
+     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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+     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 Mount Hood is seen
+     about twenty leagues distant, which is probably a dependency
+     of the Stony Mountains. Accept my affectionate salutations.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+"Who is she, Henry?" inquired the President of the United States
+mildly. "I am somewhat busy today."
+
+"'Tain't no diff'rence, she say--she sho'ly want see Mistah
+Jeffahson."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"My dear," said he, "you will pardon our confusion here, I am sure.
+There are many matters----"
+
+"I know it is an intrusion, Mr. Jefferson," began 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.
+
+"I was not so fortunate as to find time for sleep last night." He
+smiled again with humorous, half twisted mouth.
+
+"Nor was I."
+
+"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?"
+
+"How did you know?" she exclaimed, startled.
+
+"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."
+
+She was looking straight into his face, her eyes mournful.
+
+"I was glad to send him away, sorely as I miss him. But then, you
+said, you come to me about him?"
+
+"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, 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?"
+
+"You need not speak, my dear, I know."
+
+"I shall be faithful to my husband, Mr. Jefferson."
+
+The old man nodded.
+
+"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?"
+
+In turn she laid a small hand upon the President's arm.
+
+"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."
+
+"What is it, Theodosia?" he said quietly. "I do not grasp all this."
+
+"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----"
+
+"Good, my learned counsel--say on!"
+
+"Forgive my weak wit--I only try to say this as I heard it, well and
+plainly."
+
+"As well as any man, my dear! Go on."
+
+"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."
+
+"And perhaps by certain of my own party not Federalists--by Colonel
+Aaron Burr, for instance!" Thomas Jefferson smiled grimly.
+
+"Yes!" She spoke firmly and with courage.
+
+"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."
+
+"I saw him this very morning--I took my reputation in my hands--I
+followed him--I urged him, I implored him to stop!"
+
+"Yes? And did he?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+She did not reply. After a time the President went on gently:
+
+"My dear, would you wish him to come back--would 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?"
+
+She drew up proudly.
+
+"What benefit, indeed, to me? Do you think I would ask this for
+myself? No, it was for _him_--it was for _his_ welfare only that I
+dared to come to you. And you will not hear new evidence?"
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"You would not hear what was the actual cause of my wish for him----"
+
+"No, my dear! We have made our plans."
+
+"There are other plans afoot these days, Mr. Jefferson."
+
+"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 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!"
+
+She rose now, calm before the imperious quality of his nature, so
+unlike his former gentleness.
+
+"You refuse, then, Mr. Jefferson? You will not reopen this case?"
+
+"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."
+
+Suddenly he saw the tears in her eyes. At once he was back again, the
+courteous gentleman.
+
+"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."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THE THRESHOLD OF THE WEST
+
+
+Meriwether 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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+     DEAR MERNE:
+
+     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 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.
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     With all affec'n, I remain,
+
+               Your friend,
+
+                    WM. CLARK.
+
+     P. S.--God alone knows how mutch this all may mean to You
+     and me, Merne--WILL.
+
+Clark, then, was to meet him at the Falls of the Ohio, and he, too,
+counseled haste. Lewis drove his 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.
+
+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.
+
+"What is it, my son?" said he. "Did you wish to see me?"
+
+The boy advanced, smiling.
+
+"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."
+
+"You are right--I remember you perfectly. So you are grown into a
+strapping young man, I see!"
+
+The boy twirled his cap in his hands.
+
+"I want to go along with you, Captain," said he shyly.
+
+"What? You would go with me--do you know what is our journey?"
+
+"No. I only hear that you are going up the Missouri, beyond St. Louis,
+into new country. They say there are buffalo there, and Indians. 'Tis
+too quiet here for me--I want to see the world with you."
+
+The young leader, after his fashion, stood silently regarding the
+other for a time. An instant served him.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"What, is it, George?" he asked at length, looking up.
+
+"Someone waiting to see you, sir--they are in the parlor. They sent
+me----"
+
+"They? Who are they?"
+
+"I don't know, sir. She asked me to come for you."
+
+"She. Who is she?"
+
+"I don't know, sir. She spoke to her father. They are in the room just
+across the hall, sir."
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Why are you here?" he asked at length.
+
+"My father and I are on a journey down the river to visit Mr.
+Blennerhasset on his island. You know his castle there?"
+
+"Why is it that you always come to torment me the more? Another day
+and I should have been gone!"
+
+"Torment you, sir?"
+
+"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 each time I must leave you. Why did you not wait one
+day?"
+
+She made no reply. He fought for his self-control.
+
+"Mr. Jefferson, how is he?" he demanded at length. "You left him
+well?"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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!"
+
+"You shall not leave my face behind you, Captain Lewis!" she said
+suddenly.
+
+"What do you mean, Theodosia? What is it?"
+
+"You shall see me every night under the stars, Meriwether Lewis. I
+will not let you go. I will not relinquish you!"
+
+He turned swiftly toward her, but paused as if caught back by some
+mighty hand.
+
+"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?"
+
+"No! To the contrary, shall I allow you to hasten 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!"
+
+"Can you fancy what all this means to me?" he broke out hoarsely.
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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----"
+
+"There are some words that burn deep," he said slowly. "I know that I
+was not made for happiness."
+
+"Does a woman's wish mean nothing to you? Have I no appeal for you?"
+
+Something like a sob was torn from his bosom.
+
+"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?"
+
+She stood slightly swaying, silent.
+
+"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!"
+
+He saw her movement as she turned, heard her sigh.
+
+"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!"
+
+"He told you what?"
+
+"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. 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!"
+
+He heard the soft rustle of her gown, her light footfall as she
+passed; and once more he was alone.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE TAMING OF PATRICK GASS
+
+
+"Shannon, go get the men!"
+
+It was midnight. For more than an hour Meriwether Lewis had sat, his
+head drooped, in silence.
+
+"We are going to start?" Shannon's face lightened eagerly. "We'll be
+off at sunup?"
+
+"Before that. Get the men--we'll start now! I'll meet you at the
+wharf."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"All's aboard, sir," said he. "Shall we cast off?"
+
+Without a word Lewis nodded and made his way to his place in the boat.
+In the darkness, without a shout or a cheer to mark its passing, the
+expedition was launched on its long journey.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Hello, there!" called a voice through the darkness, after a time.
+"Who goes there?"
+
+The splash of a sweep had attracted the attention of someone on shore.
+The light of a camp fire showed.
+
+Every one in the boat looked at the leader, but none vouchsafed a
+reply to the hail.
+
+"Ahoy there, the boat!" insisted the same voice.
+
+"Shall I fire on yez to make yez answer a civil question? Come ashore
+wance--I can lick the best of yez in three minutes, or me name's not
+Patrick Gass!"
+
+The captain of the boat turned slowly in his seat, casting a glance
+over his silent crew.
+
+"Set in!" said he, sharply and shortly.
+
+Without a word they obeyed, and with oar and steering-sweep the great
+craft slowly swung inshore.
+
+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.
+
+These fellows lay idly looking at Lewis as he entered the light, not
+troubling to accost him.
+
+"Who hailed us?" demanded the latter shortly.
+
+"Begorrah, 'twas me," said a short, strongly built man, stepping
+forward from the other side of the fire.
+
+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.
+
+"'Twas me hailed yez, and what of it?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Yez can learn, if ye're so anxious," replied the 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!"
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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
+well-oiled rifle-locks offered the most serious of warnings.
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+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 _rencontre_--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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"I am not shaking hands with ruffians who insult travelers," Captain
+Lewis sternly rejoined; but he saw the crestfallen look which swept
+over the strong face of the other. "There, man," said he, "since you
+seem to mean well!"
+
+He shook hands with his opponent, who, stung by the rebuke, now began
+to sniffle.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Gass, Patrick Gass, you said?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"You say the Tenth?" said he briefly. "You have been with the colors?
+Look here, my man, do you want to serve?"
+
+"I am going right back to Kaskasky for it, sor."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"I'll take care of that. I have full authority to recruit among
+enlisted men."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+In this curious fashion Patrick Gass of the army--later 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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+CAPTAIN WILLIAM CLARK
+
+
+"Will!"
+
+"Merne!"
+
+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?
+
+"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."
+
+"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, 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."
+
+"The water is low," complained Lewis, "and a thousand things have
+delayed us. Are you ready to start?"
+
+"In ten minutes--in five minutes. I will have my boy York go up and
+get my rifle and my bags."
+
+"Your brother, General Clark, how is he?"
+
+William Clark shrugged with a smile which had half as much sorrow as
+mirth in it.
+
+"The truth is, Merne, the general's heart is broken. He thinks that
+his country has forgotten him."
+
+"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!"
+
+"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!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"Doubtful," said Clark. "The Spanish of the valley 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."
+
+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.
+
+"What sort of men have you in your party, Merne?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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 York along--a negro is always
+good-natured under hardship, and a laugh now and then will not hurt
+any of us."
+
+Lewis nodded assent.
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+As he spoke, so strange a look passed over his friend's face that
+William Clark swiftly put out a hand.
+
+"What is it, Merne? Pardon me! Did she--not wait?"
+
+His companion looked at him gravely.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+William Clark meant well--his friend knew that; so now he smiled, or
+tried to smile.
+
+"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!"
+
+"You are a boy, Will," said Meriwether Lewis, actually smiling now,
+"and I am glad you are and always 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!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+UNDER THREE FLAGS
+
+
+The 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.
+
+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.
+
+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. The flag of Great Britain had withdrawn itself to the North.
+The flag of our republic had not yet advanced.
+
+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?
+
+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!
+
+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 till recently exacted respect chiefly through the
+stark deadliness of its fighting and marching men.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Laussat was the last French commandant in the valley. De Lassus, the
+Spaniard, holding onto his dignity 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!
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+De Lassus choked with emotion as he handed over the keys and the
+archives which so long had been under his charge.
+
+"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!"
+
+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!
+
+"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, Merne?" he added. "I've not been across there for two
+weeks."
+
+"News enough," said Meriwether Lewis gravely. "I just have word of the
+arrival in town of none other than Colonel Aaron Burr."
+
+"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?"
+
+"No. I wish he were alone. Will, she is with him--his daughter, Mrs.
+Alston!"
+
+"Well, what of that? Oh, I know--I know, but why should you meet?"
+
+"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!"
+
+"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 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!"
+
+"You preach very well, Will. Of course, I know you don't practise what
+you preach--who does?"
+
+"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."
+
+Lewis did not answer his friend's jesting argument.
+
+"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 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."
+
+"His deeds! Yes, you are right, they do, indeed, tell the tale. Let us
+hope the reckoning will stand clean at last."
+
+"Merne, you are a soldier, not a preacher."
+
+"Will, you are neither--you are only a boy!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+THE RENT IN THE ARMOR
+
+
+Aaron 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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 apparel now.
+These folk of St. Louis must see us at our best, my dear, our very
+best. Besides----"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"My daughter, Mrs. Alston, will join us presently," he said. "So you
+are ready, Captain Lewis?"
+
+"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!"
+
+"_All bridges burned?_"
+
+The deep voice of Aaron Burr almost trembled. His keen eye searched
+the face of the young man before him.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"I was just going, yes," stammered Meriwether Lewis. "I had hoped----"
+But what he had hoped he did not say.
+
+"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.
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Theodosia sighed.
+
+"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!"
+
+"Yes, I would have preferred that."
+
+"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!"
+
+"I thank you, madam!"
+
+"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."
+
+"Just what do you mean?"
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+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 her, only to be
+done with his last errands, and away on that trail which so long had
+beckoned to him.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+"Coming back?" he began, and stopped short once more. They were now
+both within the shelter of the old building.
+
+"Yes, Merne!" she broke out suddenly. "When are you coming back to me,
+Merne?"
+
+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.
+
+"Coming back to _you_? And you call me by that name? Only my mother,
+Mr. Jefferson and Will Clark ever did so."
+
+"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!"
+
+He made no reply.
+
+"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 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?"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+[Illustration: "'Oh, Theo, what have I done?'"]
+
+"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 know not what
+it was. I heard it. I felt it. Forgive me, it was not I myself! Oh,
+Theo, what have I done?"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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!
+
+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:
+
+"Theo! Theo! What have I done? What have I done?"
+
+
+
+
+PART II
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+UNDER ONE FLAG
+
+
+What 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?
+
+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?
+
+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!
+
+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, 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.
+
+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.
+
+Continually the boats, heavily laden as they were, ran upon shifting
+bars of sand, or made long détours to avoid some _chevaux de frise_ 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.
+
+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.
+
+When sail and oar and setting-pole proved unavailing, 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+A month passed, and more. The hunters exulted that game was so easy to
+get, for they must depend 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+They came riding down in bands, whooping and shouting, painted and
+half naked, well armed--splendid savages, fearing no man, proud,
+capricious, blood-thirsty. 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.
+
+"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."
+
+"You are chiefs!" said Dorion. "Have I not seen it? I will tell them
+so."
+
+But Dorion had been gone but a short time when he came hurrying back
+from the Indian village.
+
+"The runners say plenty buffalo close by," he reported. "The chief,
+she'll call the people to hunt the buffalo."
+
+William Clark turned to his companion.
+
+"You hear that, Merne?" said he. "Why should we not go also?"
+
+"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!"
+
+"Yes, and without saddles, too! Very well, I learned that of my
+brother, who learned it of the Indians 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."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"Strip, Will," said Meriwether Lewis. "If we ride as savages, it must
+be in full keeping."
+
+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 whose skins were white, whose hair was not black, but
+some strange new color--one whose hair was red.
+
+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!
+
+"Now, York, you rascal," commanded William Clark, "do as I tell you!"
+
+"Yessah, massa Captain, I suttinly will!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"Yassah, massa Captain!"
+
+York grinned his enjoyment; and when he had duly executed the
+maneuver, the Sioux greeted the white men with much acclamation.
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"Now we shall serve!" said Lewis an instant later; for they brought
+out two handsome horses, one coal-black, the other piebald, both
+mettlesome and high-strung.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Dorion, also stripped to the waist, a kerchief bound about his head,
+carrying a short carbine against his thigh, now rode alongside.
+
+"He say Weucha show you how Sioux can ride," he interpreted.
+
+"Tell him it is good, Dorion," rejoined Lewis. "We will show him also
+that we can ride!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Lewis found his horse, the black runner that Weucha 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 _zut_. 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"Plenty--you will find them back there."
+
+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.
+
+In time the messenger came back carrying a sheaf of arrows. Grinning,
+he held up the fingers of two hands.
+
+"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!"
+
+The two leaders hastened to their own encampment 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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, in dignified
+silence, not looking about them, they sat, their long locks spread out
+on their shoulders.
+
+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.
+
+At length Meriwether Lewis, holding in his hand the great peace pipe
+that he had brought, arose.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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 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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"Tomorrow our people will go a little way with you 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.
+
+"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!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE MYSTERIOUS LETTER
+
+
+Late 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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+His friend turned to him seriously.
+
+"You are right, Will," said he. "I owe duty to many besides myself."
+
+"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!"
+
+His companion made no reply. They marched on to their own part of the
+encampment, and seated themselves at the little fire which had been
+left burning for them.[4]
+
+[Footnote 4: 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.]
+
+William Clark went on with his reproving.
+
+"Tell me, Merne, what are you thinking of? It is not that woman?"
+
+He seemed to feel the sudden shrinking of the tall figure at his side.
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+"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 _see_ 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."
+
+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 and
+crackling under his hand, and looked down.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+     TO CAPTAIN MERIWETHER LEWIS.--ON THE TRAIL IN THE WEST.
+
+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:
+
+     DEAR SIR AND FRIEND:
+
+     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, 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?
+
+     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?
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     Turn back _now_, Meriwether Lewis! Come back!
+
+The letter was not signed, and needed not to be. Meriwether Lewis sat
+staring at the paper clutched in his hand.
+
+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:
+
+     Oh, if only I had the right to lay some command on you!
+
+Was not he, who had forgotten honor, subject now to any command that
+she might give him?
+
+"Will, Will!" exclaimed Meriwether Lewis, sharply, imperatively, to
+his friend, whom he could see dimly at a little distance as he lay.
+
+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.
+
+"Who calls there? Who goes?" he cried, half awake.
+
+"It is I, Will," said Meriwether Lewis, advancing toward him.
+"Listen--tell me, Will, why did you do this?"
+
+"Why did I do what? Merne, what is wrong?"
+
+Clark was now on his feet, and Lewis held out the letter to him. He
+took it in his hand, looked at it wonderingly.
+
+"This letter----" began Meriwether Lewis. "Certainly you carried it
+for me--why did you not bring it to me long ago?"
+
+"What letter? Whose letter is it, Merne? I never saw it before. What
+is it you are saying? Are you mad?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Who sends it, Merne. What does it say?"
+
+"It is from the woman whose face I have seen at night, Will. She asks
+me to come back!"
+
+"Burn it--throw it in the fire!" said William Clark sharply. "Go back?
+What, forsake Mr. Jefferson--leave me?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"She had no right----"
+
+"Ah, but that is the cruelty of it--she _did_ have the right!"
+
+"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."
+
+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, he
+found himself on a little eminence of the bluff near by.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Lewis frowned heavily. He could not speak for a time.
+
+"Give the orders to the men to roll out, Captain Clark," said he at
+length.
+
+"Which way, Captain Lewis--upstream or down?"
+
+"The expedition will go forward, Captain Clark."
+
+"God bless you, Merne!" said the red-headed one.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THE DAY'S WORK
+
+
+"Roll out, men, roll out!"
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Myself, sir," said Ordway, "if you please."
+
+"No, 'tis meself, sor," interrupted Patrick Gass.
+
+Pryor, with hand outstretched, also claimed the honor of the difficult
+undertaking.
+
+"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----"
+
+"Yes, sir!"
+
+"Has any boat passed up the river within the last day--for instance,
+while we were away at the hunt?"
+
+"I think not, sir. Surely any one coming up the river would have
+turned in at our camp."
+
+Lewis turned to Gass, to Pryor; but both agreed that no boat could
+have gone by unnoticed.
+
+"And no man has come into the camp from below--no horseman?"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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. _En avant_, 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."
+
+"Sure, the Frenchmans, she'll lead on the line this morning,
+_Capitaine_! 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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"Ho!" said Ordway, usually silent. "Wait rather for us Yankees--we'll
+show you what old Vermont can do!"
+
+"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!"
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+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 seated
+themselves at the long sweeps of the barge, while yet others were
+manning the pirogues.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"We surely must be almost across now!" said some of the men.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"Two weeks on his foot!"
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"_Oui, oui_, the Teton!" exclaimed Drouillard. "I'll not spoke his
+language, me; but she'll be bad Sioux. _Prenez garde, Capitaine,
+prenez garde pour ces sauvages, les Sioux!_"
+
+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
+there were a hundred of them assembled--painted warriors, decked in
+all their savage finery, bold men, showing no fear of the newcomers.
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"He'll said he was Black Buffalo," replied the Frenchman. "I don't
+understand him very good."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+At that moment Lewis gave a loud order, which arrested them all. The
+Sioux turned toward the barge, to see the black mouth of the great
+swivel gun pointing at them--the gun whose thunder voice they had
+heard.
+
+"Big medicine!" called out Black Buffalo in terror, and ordered his
+men back.
+
+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.
+
+"_Croyez moi!_" ejaculated Drouillard. "These Hinjun, she'll think he
+own this country!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE CROSSROADS OF THE WEST
+
+
+The 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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,
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"We open our ears to what Big White has said," replied Lewis--speaking
+through Jussaume, the 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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"It is good," said the Mandan. "_Ahaie!_ 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."
+
+"When the grass is green," said Lewis, "I shall lead my young men
+toward the setting sun. We shall make new trails."
+
+Jussaume, McCracken, and all the others held their own council with
+the leaders of the expedition.
+
+"What are you doing here?" they demanded. "The Missouri has always
+belonged to the British traders."
+
+The face of Meriwether Lewis flushed with anger.
+
+"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."
+
+"Purchase? What purchase?" demanded McCracken.
+
+And then the face of Lewis lightened, for he knew that they had outrun
+all the news of the world!
+
+"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!"
+
+"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!"
+
+"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 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!"
+
+McCracken, irritated, turned away from the talk.
+
+"It is a fine fairy tale they tell us!" said he to his fellows.
+
+Drouillard came a moment later to his chief.
+
+"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."
+
+Lewis smiled.
+
+"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."
+
+"My faith," said Jussaume, the Frenchman, "you come a long way!
+Why you want to go more farther West? But, listen, _Monsieur
+Capitaine_--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!"
+
+"'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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"Agreed, then!" said his master, laughing lustily, for, safe in his
+own sanctuary, he had not seen these 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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 _presto_, before the winter had well
+settled down, the white explorers were housed and fortified and ready
+for what might come.
+
+The Mandans sat and watched them in wonder. Jussaume, the French
+trader, shook his head. In all his experience on the trail he had
+seen nothing savoring quite so much of preparedness and celerity.
+
+Among all the posts to the northward and eastward the word went out,
+carried by dog runners.
+
+"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!
+
+"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!
+
+"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 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.
+
+"We have seen no men like these. They are chiefs, and their medicine
+is strong!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+THE APPEAL
+
+
+"Well 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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"Yes, and a surly brute he is!"
+
+"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 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!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"By the Lord, Merne, you're a genius for getting over new country!"
+
+"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 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.
+
+"What do you mean, Merne? Surely, if I do, you will also!"
+
+"I cannot be sure."
+
+The florid face of William Clark showed a frown of displeasure.
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+Meriwether Lewis turned to his colleague with the sweet smile which
+sometimes his friends saw.
+
+"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."
+
+"Confound it, Merne, you have not been yourself since you got that
+accursed letter in the night last summer!"
+
+"It was unsettling, I don't deny."
+
+"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!"
+
+"It is taboo, Will--that one thing!"
+
+And Clark, growling anathemas on all women, stalked away to find his
+axmen.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The sounds of revelry were heard by the Mandans who came up to the
+gate.
+
+"White men make a medicine dance," they said, and knocked for
+entrance.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+He returned to his own quarters, where he had erected a little desk at
+which he sometimes worked, 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.
+
+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.
+
+     TO CAPTAIN MERIWETHER LEWIS, IN CHARGE OF THE VOLUNTEERS FOR
+     THE DISCOVERY OF THE WEST.--ON THE TRAIL.
+
+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:
+
+     SIR AND FRIEND:
+
+     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?
+
+     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?
+
+     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?
+
+     "I will always be there, Theodosia," you said, "when you are
+     in trouble!"
+
+     You said it stoutly, and I believed it, as a child.
+
+     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!
+
+     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.
+
+     _Meriwether Lewis, come back to us!_ 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.
+
+     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.
+
+     Go on, therefore, if you would ruin me, my father--your own
+     future; but will you go on if you face possible ruin _for
+     your own country_ by so doing? This I leave for you to say.
+
+     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.
+
+     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?
+
+     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!
+
+     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!
+
+Meriwether Lewis sat, his face between his hands, staring down at what
+he saw. Should he go on, or 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?
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Will!" he called to his companion.
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+Meriwether Lewis was folding up the letter. He placed it in the pocket
+of his coat with its fellow, received months ago.
+
+"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."
+
+"Listen, Merne!" replied William Clark. "There is no woman in the
+world worth the misery this one has put on you. It is a thing
+execrable, unspeakable!"
+
+His friend looked him steadily in the eyes.
+
+"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_ did was a thing execrable,
+unspeakable--I, your friend, did that!"
+
+William Clark, more genuinely troubled than ever in his life before,
+was dumb.
+
+"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."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+WHICH WAY?
+
+
+"Which 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?"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Which way, Sacajawea?" asked Meriwether Lewis. "What river is this
+which goes on to the left?"
+
+"Him Ro'shone," replied the girl. "My man call him that. No good!
+_Him_--big river"; and she pointed toward the right-hand stream.
+
+"As I thought, Will," said Lewis, nodding; and again, to the Indian
+girl: "Do you remember this place?"
+
+She nodded her head vigorously and smiled.
+
+"See!"
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"And greater, and more beautiful in every way," assented his
+companion.
+
+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.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Soon we see the mountains!" insisted Sacajawea.
+
+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.
+
+"It is the mountains!" he exclaimed. "There lie the Stonies. They do
+exist! We shall surely reach them! We have won!"
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+"The north wan, she'll be the right wan, _Capitaine_," said Cruzatte,
+himself a good voyageur.
+
+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?
+
+They found the moccasin of an Indian not far from here.
+
+"Blackfoot!" said Sacajawea, and pointed to the north, shaking her
+head.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"If we go up that left-hand stream we shall be lost among the
+mountains," one said. "We shall perish when the winter comes!"
+
+"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."
+
+So Lewis traveled two days' journey up the right-hand fork before he
+turned back, thoughtful.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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!"
+
+"Guard her well," said Lewis anxiously. "Much depends on her. I must
+go on ahead."
+
+He took the French interpreter, Drouillard, and 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"The girl was right--this is the river!" said Lewis to his men. "It
+comes from the mountains. We are right!"
+
+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.
+
+Now word went down to the mouth of Maria's 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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"We must leave more plunder here, Merne," said he. "We can't get into
+the mountains with all this."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"We must go on!" was always the cry.
+
+All felt that the summer was going; none knew what might be on ahead.
+
+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 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.
+
+"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.
+
+"She knows, Will!" said Lewis, once more. "We have a guide even here.
+We are the luckiest of men!"
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"We will camp here," said the leader. "We are tired, we have worked
+long and hard!"
+
+"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!"
+
+Without hesitation she pointed out that one of the three forks of the
+Missouri which led off to the westward--the one that Meriwether Lewis
+called the Jefferson.
+
+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.
+
+"Captains make medicine now," said Sacajawea to Charbonneau, her
+husband.
+
+For once more the captains hesitated. There were many passes, many
+valleys, many trails. Which was the way? The men grew sullen again.
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+Lewis thanked him, and the man brought from his 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.
+
+He halted, the old presentiment coming to his mind.
+
+"Is Shannon here?" he asked of the man who had handed him the coat.
+"He was to get my moccasins mended for me."
+
+"No, captain, he is out with Captain Clark," replied Fields, the
+Kentuckian.
+
+"Very well--that will do, Fields."
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+He pushed together yet more closely the burning 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:
+
+     Come back to me--ah, come back! I need you. I implore you to
+     return!
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE MOUNTAINS
+
+
+When 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.
+
+"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."
+
+"What do you mean?" demanded Meriwether Lewis quietly.
+
+"I scarce know. I am worn out, Merne. My men have been driven hard."
+
+"And why not?"
+
+His companion remained silent under the apparent rebuke.
+
+"You don't mean that we should return?" Lewis went on.
+
+"Why not, Merne?" said William Clark, sighing.
+
+"Our men are exhausted. There are other years than this."
+
+Meriwether Lewis turned upon his friend with the one flash of wrath
+which ever was known between them.
+
+"Good Heavens, Captain Clark," said he, "there is _not_ 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!"
+
+Clark's florid face flushed under the sting of his comrade's words;
+but his response was manful and just.
+
+"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."
+
+"You are only weary, Will. It is my turn now," said Meriwether Lewis;
+and he never told his friend of this last letter.
+
+A moment later he had called one of his men.
+
+"McNeal," said he, "get Reuben Fields, Whitehouse, and Goodrich. Make
+light packs. We are going into the mountains!"
+
+The four men shortly appeared, but they were silent, morose, moody.
+Those who were to remain in the camp shared their silence. Sacajawea
+alone smiled as they departed.
+
+"That way!" said she, pointing; and she knew that her chief would find
+the path.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+Pryor nodded his head.
+
+"Sure," said he, "and all the game-trails break off to the south and
+southwest. Follow the elk!"
+
+"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
+aisy enough after they've been done _wance_--but it's the first toime
+that counts!"
+
+"There is no other way, Pat," argued Ordway. "'Tis the rivers that
+make passes in any mountain range."
+
+"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."
+
+Pryor was willing to argue further.
+
+"All the Injuns have said the big river was over there somewhere."
+
+"'Somewhere'!" exclaimed Patrick Gass. "'Somewhere' is a mighty long
+ways when we're lost and hungry!"
+
+"Which is just what we are now," rejoined Pryor. "The sooner we start
+back the quicker we'll be out of this."
+
+"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?"
+
+"I ain't particular. 'Tis time we took this thing into our own hands."
+
+"It's where we're takin' it _now_, Pryor!" said Gass ominously. "A
+coort martial has set for less than that ye've said!"
+
+"Mebbe you couldn't call one--I don't know."
+
+"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!"
+
+"Well, maybe you are right, Pat," said Ordway after a time. And so the
+mutiny once more halted.
+
+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.
+
+"What is it, Captain?" asked Hugh McNeal. "Some game?"
+
+"No, a man--an Indian! Riding a good horse, too--that means he has
+more horses somewhere. Come, we will call to him!"
+
+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.
+
+"His people are that way," said Lewis. "Come!"
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"McNeal," said Lewis, "go back now across the range, and tell Captain
+Clark to bring up the men."
+
+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. He met McNeal
+coming down, bearing the tidings. Sacajawea ran on ahead in glee.
+
+"My people! My people!" she cried.
+
+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.[5]
+
+[Footnote 5: 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+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!]
+
+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.
+
+"Which way, Sacajawea?" Meriwether Lewis once more asked the Indian
+girl.
+
+But now she only shook her head.
+
+"Not know," said she. "These my people. They say big river that way.
+Not know which way."
+
+"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 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."
+
+"No good--no good!" insisted Sacajawea. "That way no good. My brother
+say go that way."
+
+She pointed to the north, and insisted that the party should go in
+that direction.
+
+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.
+
+"That way!" said Sacajawea, still pointing north.
+
+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.
+
+"We will go north," said Lewis.
+
+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.
+
+Charbonneau wanted to remain with the Shoshones, and to keep with him
+Sacajawea, his wife, so recently reunited to her people.
+
+"No!" said Sacajawea. "I no go back--I go with the white chief to the
+water that tastes salt!" And it was so ordered.
+
+Their course lay along the eastern side of the lofty 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"We will leave our horses here," said Lewis. "We will take to the
+boats once more."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+TRAIL'S END
+
+
+Where 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.
+
+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.
+
+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!
+
+The men had grown reckless now. Cruzatte, Labiche, Drouillard--all the
+adventurers--sang as they traveled, gayer and more gay from day to
+day.
+
+Always the landscape had fascinating interest for them in its repeated
+changes. They were in a different 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.
+
+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!
+
+Soon, so said the Indians, they would come to ships--canoes with trees
+standing in them, on which teepees were hung.
+
+"Me," said Cruzatte, "I never in my whole life was seen a sheep! I
+will be glad for see wan now."
+
+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.
+
+Here they saw many gulls. As to Columbus these 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.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+"The big flag, Sergeant Gass!" said Lewis.
+
+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.
+
+"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 we must pass the
+winter. In the spring we will make quick time homeward."
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"That's Lewis and Clark!" said Simon Fraser. "They were at the Mandan
+villages. We are beaten!"
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+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 they made that winter, Sacajawea presiding
+over the moccasin-boards, and teaching the men to sew.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Pretty soon, by and by," said the voyageurs, "we will run on the
+river for home once more!"
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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:
+
+     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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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 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.
+
+"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."
+
+"How is your salt, Will?" asked Lewis. "And your powder?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"What is the matter with you, Merne?" grumbled his more buoyant
+companion. "Are you still carrying all the weight of the entire
+world?"
+
+Lewis turned upon his friend with the same patient smile. Both were
+conscious that between them there was growing a thin, impermeable
+veil--something mysterious, the only barrier which ever had separated
+these two loyal souls.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+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?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+THE SUMMONS
+
+
+The 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Yes, Sergeant Ordway?" said he presently, looking up.
+
+Ordway saluted.
+
+"Something for you, sir. It seems to be a letter."
+
+"A letter! How could that be?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Possibly--possibly," said Lewis. His face was growing pale. "That is
+all, I think, Sergeant," he added.
+
+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!
+
+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!
+
+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!
+
+[Illustration: "Her face indeed!"]
+
+And now he read the letter, which covered many closely written sheets:
+
+     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.
+
+     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?
+
+     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.
+
+     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?
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     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 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?
+
+     How can I answer all these questions? Yet they come to my
+     mind as I write.
+
+     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?
+
+     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.
+
+     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?
+
+     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.
+
+     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----
+
+     Ah! let me write slowly here, and think very carefully!
+
+     My greatest wish in this, greater than any ambition I had
+     for myself or my family--_has been for you!_ 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?
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     Moreover, you shall say to yourself always:
+
+     "She asked and I refused her!"
+
+     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 could never wish to hurt you._
+
+     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!
+
+     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?
+
+     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!
+
+     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!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THE ABYSS
+
+
+The 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.
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+"In two hours, Merne," said he, "we will be on our way."
+
+It was now near the end of March. They dated and 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"That way," said Sacajawea, pointing, "big falls!"
+
+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 had pondered over this short cut, which the Nez
+Percés knew well.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"That way short path over mountains," said Sacajawea at length, at one
+point of their journey.
+
+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.
+
+"That way," said she, "find boat, find cache!"
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"That way!" she said.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Sergeant Gass," said Captain Lewis, "I am going 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."
+
+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.
+
+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 far more numerous band of
+Blackfeet, lay down to sleep that night in company.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Curse you, turn loose of me!" cried Reuben Fields.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 escaped, leaving the little party of whites
+unhurt, but much disturbed.
+
+"Mount, men! Hurry!" Lewis ordered.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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, 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.
+
+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:
+
+"The captain! I've keeled him--I've keeled the captain--I've shot
+him!"
+
+"What is that you're saying?" demanded Patrick Gass. "If you've done
+that, you would be better dead yourself!"
+
+He reached out, caught Cruzatte's rifle, and flung it away from him.
+
+"Where is he?" he demanded.
+
+Cruzatte led the way back.
+
+"I see something move on the bushes," said he, "and I shoot. It was
+not elk--it was the captain. _Mon Dieu_, what shall we do?"
+
+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.
+
+There were actual tears in the eyes of some of the men as they
+gathered around their commander--tears which touched Meriwether Lewis
+deeply.
+
+"It is all right, men!" said he. "Do not be alarmed. 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!"
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+It was another of the mysterious letters!
+
+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.
+
+He was with his men now, their eyes were on him 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 _corpus
+delicti_ of his crime, still insistent on coming to the eye!
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+After all, mere curiosity as to the nature of that mystery was a small
+matter. It seemed of more worth 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:
+
+     SIR AND MY FRIEND:
+
+     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!
+
+     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, _none the less I
+     must write it_.
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     What need now to ask you to come back? What need to reproach
+     you any further? How could I--how can I--with this terrible
+     thought in my soul that I am writing to a man whose eyes
+     cannot see, whose ears cannot hear?
+
+     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!
+
+     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.
+
+     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 _must_ not!
+
+     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.
+
+     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 _knew_ that you would see
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     Nay, I _cannot_ stop! How can you mind my garrulous pen--my
+     vain pen--my wicked, wicked, wicked, shameful pen--since you
+     cannot see what it says?
+
+     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 that also go out to the world--I glory in the
+     truth _that I have failed_!
+
+     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 _not_ come back to me.
+     There--have I not said all that a woman could say to a man,
+     living or dead?
+
+     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.
+
+     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 _from_ a man--yes, but they are not the things a woman
+     _loves in_ a man. No; it is the stiff-necked man, bound in
+     his own ambition, whom women love, even as they swear they
+     do not.
+
+     _Therefore, do not come back to me_, 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.
+
+     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, _and I rejoiced that you did not_!
+
+     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
+     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:
+
+     "I hope I shall not be unhappy, for I do not feel that I
+     have been bad."
+
+     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!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE BEE
+
+
+"Captain, 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!"
+
+Gass chuckled at his own jest as his leader looked up at him.
+
+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.
+
+William Clark, walking up and down along the bank, looking ever
+upstream for some sign of his friend, hurried down to meet the boats,
+and gazed anxiously at the figure lifted in the arms of the men.
+
+"What's wrong, Merne?" he exclaimed. "Tell me!"
+
+Lewis waved a hand at him in reassurance, and smiled as his friend
+bent above him.
+
+"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."
+
+By marvel, by miracle, the two friends were reunited once more; and
+surely around the camp fires there were stories for all to tell.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"We must get on!" said he. "We cannot delay."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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 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."
+
+Her face lighted up with a strange wistfulness.
+
+"Yes, Capt'in," said she, "I go with Big White--and you."
+
+He smiled as he shook his head.
+
+"We go farther than that, many sleeps farther."
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"Aw right!" said Sacajawea, in paleface idiom. "Him stay--me go!"
+
+Meriwether Lewis pondered for a time on what fashion of speech he must
+employ to make her understand.
+
+"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 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?"
+
+"Your words are good," said Sacajawea. "But I go, too! No want to stay
+here now. No can stay!"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+A spasm of pain crossed Lewis's face.
+
+"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 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!
+
+"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."
+
+The unwonted tears of an Indian woman were in the eyes which looked up
+at him.
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The little Indian dog, Meriwether Lewis's constant companion, now,
+like Sacajawea, mercifully banished, sat at her side, as motionless
+as she. Both of them, mute and resigned, accepted their fate.
+
+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!
+
+"_Capitaine, Capitaine_, look what I'll found!"
+
+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.
+
+"What is it, Cruzatte?" smiled Lewis.
+
+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.
+
+"Ouch, by gar! She'll bite me with his tail. She's hot!"
+
+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.
+
+Meriwether Lewis held the tiny creature in the palm of his hand.
+
+"Why did you kill it, Cruzatte?" he asked. "It was on its errand."
+
+He turned to his friend who sat near, at the other side.
+
+"Will," he said, "our expedition has succeeded. Here is the proof of
+it. The bee is following our path. They are coming!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"They are coming!" said he again to his friend.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+WHAT VOICE HAD CALLED?
+
+
+They 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+He turned once more and bent down, as if figuring 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.
+
+"Hoh!" he exclaimed at length, almost like an Indian, as if in some
+definite conclusion.
+
+He had run his trail to the end, had finished the problem in the
+ashes.
+
+"Hoh!" his voice again rumbled in his chest.
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Meriwether Lewis knew the place of every man in 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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!
+
+"Shannon!" He heard a hoarse voice command him. "Get up!"
+
+George Shannon, the youngest of the party, sprang out of his bed half
+clad.
+
+"Captain!" He saluted again. "What is it, sir?" he half whispered, as
+if in apprehension.
+
+"Put on your jacket, Shannon. Come with me!"
+
+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.
+
+"What is it, Captain?" he inquired once more.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"You know what I want, Shannon! I want the rest of these--I want the
+last one of them! Give it to me now!"
+
+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.
+
+"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 don't you
+answer?" With sudden and violent strength Lewis shook the boy as a dog
+might a rat. "Answer me!"
+
+"Captain, I cannot!" broke out Shannon.
+
+"What? Then there is another?"
+
+"I'll not answer! I'll stand my trial before court martial, if you
+please."
+
+Again the heavy hand on his shoulder.
+
+"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!"
+
+Shannon laid a hand on the iron wrist.
+
+"How do you know?" he faltered. "Why do you think----"
+
+"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--_you_ 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.
+
+"Give me that letter! I am your officer."
+
+"Captain, I will not!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Yes!"
+
+"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!"
+
+The hand closed at his throat. The boy could not speak, but still
+Meriwether Lewis growled on at him.
+
+"Shannon! Speak! Why have you kept secrets from your commanding
+officer? You have begun to tell me--tell me all!"
+
+The boy's hand clutched at his leader's wrists. At length Lewis loosed
+him.
+
+"Captain," began the victim, "what do you mean? What can I do?"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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!"
+
+With one movement, Meriwether Lewis flung off the uniform coat that
+he wore. They stood now, man to man, stripped, and neither gave back
+from the other.
+
+"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?"
+
+The last cruelty was too much. The boy began to gulp.
+
+"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."
+
+"Is that the reason?"
+
+"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!"
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"What is it, boy?" he whispered at last. "What have I done? What did I
+say?"
+
+Shannon was sobbing now.
+
+"Captain," he said, and thrust a hand into the bosom 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."
+
+Lewis's strained muscles relaxed, his blazing eyes softened.
+
+"Shannon!" he whispered once more. "What have I done?"
+
+He took the letter in his hand, but did not look at it, although his
+fingers could feel the seal unbroken.
+
+"Why do you give it to me now, boy?" he asked at length. "What changed
+you?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Come back--when?"
+
+"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."
+
+"What did she promise you?"
+
+"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."
+
+"When was all this?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Yes, I know, Shannon."
+
+"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?"
+
+"No, Shannon. No! In all this there is but one to blame, and that is
+your officer, myself!"
+
+"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 ought to--that she would want me to. It is the fever,
+sir!"
+
+"Aye, the fever!"
+
+Silence fell as they stood there in the night. The boy went on, half
+tremblingly:
+
+"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----"
+
+And now it was the eye of Meriwether Lewis that suddenly was wet; it
+was his voice that trembled.
+
+"Boy," said he, "I am your officer. Your officer asks your pardon. I
+have tried myself. I was guilty. Will you forget this?"
+
+"Not a word to a soul in the world, Captain!" broke out Shannon.
+"About a woman, you see, we do not talk."
+
+"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?"
+
+"Nothing in the world, Captain--but just one thing."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Please, sir, tell me that you don't think me a coward!"
+
+"A coward? No, Shannon, you are the bravest fellow I ever met!"
+
+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 and
+of remorse--had swept by, so that Lewis once more was officer,
+gentleman, just and generous man.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+     MY FRIEND:
+
+     This is my last letter to you. This is the one I have marked
+     Number Six--the last one for my messenger.
+
+     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 to lay me down,
+     I hope, too, some wilderness of wood or waters will be
+     around me with its vast silences.
+
+     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?
+
+     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 _is_----
+
+               Yours,
+
+                    THEODOSIA.
+
+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.
+
+She had said it--had said that last fated word. Now indeed he knew
+what voice had called to him across the deeps!
+
+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!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE NEWS
+
+
+A 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!
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+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 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!
+
+"Present arms!" rang out a sharp command, as the boats lined up along
+the wharf.
+
+The brown and scarred rifles came to place.
+
+"Aim! Fire!"
+
+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.
+
+"Come with me!"
+
+"No, with me!"
+
+"With me!"
+
+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.
+
+"_Ma foi!_" exclaimed more than one pretty French maiden. "Such
+men--such splendid men--savages, yet white! See! See!"
+
+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, grave and dignified,
+feeling almost for the first time the weight of what they had done?
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+"My matches--my thermometers--my instruments--how did they perform?"
+
+The speaker was Dr. Saugrain, eager to meet again his friends.
+
+"Perfect, doctor, perfect! We have some of the matches yet. As to the
+thermometers, we broke the last one before we reached the sea."
+
+"You found the sea? _Mon Dieu!_"
+
+"We found the Pacific. We found the Columbia, 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."
+
+"The beaver--did you find the beaver yonder?" demanded the voice of a
+swarthy man who had attended them.
+
+It was Manuel Liza, fur-trader, his eyes glowing in his interest in
+that reply.
+
+"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!"
+
+"Your men, will they be free to make return up the river with trading
+parties?"
+
+William Clark smiled at the keenness of the old French trader.
+
+"You could not possibly have better men," said he.
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+"Captain," inquired Chouteau at length, "your luggage, your
+boxes--where are they?"
+
+Meriwether Lewis pointed to a skin parfleche and a knotted bandanna
+handkerchief which George Shannon carried for him.
+
+"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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"We bring them better news than that. What news for us?" asked the two
+captains of their host.
+
+"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----"
+
+"Yes, we did not know of it for two years," said William Clark. "We
+have just heard about it, up river."
+
+"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?"
+
+It was the dark eye of Meriwether Lewis which now compelled his
+attention.
+
+"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."
+
+He did not notice the sudden change in Meriwether Lewis's face.
+
+"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?"
+
+"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!"
+
+"He had many friends," went on Chouteau; "very many friends. They are
+scattered even now all up and down this country--men who will not
+give up their cause. All those men needed was a leader."
+
+"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!"
+
+Chouteau shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"There may be two names for it," he said.
+
+"And every one asked to join the cause was asked to join in treason to
+his country. Is it not so?" Lewis went on.
+
+"There may be two names for it," smiled the other, still shrugging.
+
+"He was my friend," said Meriwether Lewis. "I trusted him!"
+
+"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
+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! _Does_ no one know?"
+
+The captain did not speak, and Chouteau presently went on.
+
+"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--_messieurs_, you two young men, with your
+Lewis and Clark Expedition! It was _you_ who broke the Burr
+Conspiracy--for so they call it in these days. _Messieurs_, that is
+your news!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+THE GUESTS OF A NATION
+
+
+"Attention, men!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Men," said he, "you are to be mustered out today. There will be given
+to each of you a certificate of service 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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"Attention! Aim--fire! Break ranks--march!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Toward none of the fair maids who now flocked 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"My son!" said she at length, half as much in terror as in joy.
+"Merne!"
+
+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.
+
+"My son!" was all she could say. "They told me that you never would
+come back, that you were dead. I thought the wilderness had claimed
+you at last, Merne!"
+
+"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."
+
+"And what have you found?"
+
+"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!"
+
+"And you did that? Merne, was _that_ 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?"
+
+"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?"
+
+"You should be, Merne, but are you?"
+
+"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. 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."
+
+"Yes, but are you happy? Turn your face to me."
+
+But he did not turn his face.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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
+our country! My son, that was our vision. You have proved it. You
+have been both dreamer and doer!"
+
+He came up and placed a half playful hand on Meriwether Lewis's
+shoulder.
+
+"Did I know men, then?" he demanded.
+
+"And did I, Mr. Jefferson? Captain Clark----"
+
+"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!"
+
+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!
+
+"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!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+MR. JEFFERSON'S ADVICE
+
+
+"Merne, 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."
+
+"Meaning, Mr. Jefferson?----"
+
+"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."
+
+"I heard some talk in the West, Mr. Jefferson," hesitated Meriwether
+Lewis.
+
+"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. 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."
+
+"We are glad that you have been pleased, Mr. Jefferson," said Lewis
+simply.
+
+"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!"
+
+"And I nearly did, Mr. Jefferson!" broke out Meriwether Lewis. "Do
+not praise me too much. I was tempted----"
+
+The old man turned toward him, his face grave.
+
+"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!"
+
+Lewis nodded, mute.
+
+"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 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."
+
+The bowed head of Meriwether Lewis was his only answer. The keen-faced
+old man went on:
+
+"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--_our_
+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.
+
+"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, through which alone the great
+deeds of the world always have been done."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+"What is it, Merne?" exclaimed the old man. "What have I done?"
+
+"You speak of my honor. Do not! Indeed, you touch me deep."
+
+Thomas Jefferson, wise old man, raised a hand.
+
+"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."
+
+"Mr. Jefferson, I shall never marry."
+
+The two sat looking into each other's eyes for just a moment. Said
+Thomas Jefferson at length, slowly:
+
+"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."
+
+Lewis did not speak.
+
+"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 _her_! Is it not so?"
+
+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.
+
+"She is at Richmond, Merne?" said Mr. Jefferson a moment later.
+
+The young man nodded.
+
+"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."
+
+The thin lips compressed for a moment. It was not in implacable,
+vengeful zeal--it was but in thought.
+
+"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 _not for his daughter_!"
+
+"Mr. Jefferson!" The face of Meriwether Lewis was strangely moved. "I
+see the actual greatness of your soul; but I ask nothing."
+
+"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."
+
+Lewis bowed silently.
+
+"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 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 _politics will try it_! Go to Theodosia,
+Merne, in her desperate need."
+
+"But what can I do, Mr. Jefferson?" broke out his listener.
+
+"Do precisely what I tell you. Go to that social outcast. Take her on
+your arm before all the world--_and before that jury_! 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!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+THE QUALITY OF MERCY
+
+
+In 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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?
+
+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.
+
+Burr advanced to meet his visitor with something of his own old
+haughtiness of mien, a little of the former brilliance of his eye.
+
+"Governor, I am delighted to see you, back safe and sound from your
+journey. My congratulations, sir!"
+
+Meriwether Lewis made no reply, but gazed at him steadily, well aware
+of the stinging sarcasm of his words.
+
+"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."
+
+"You promised them a country, Colonel Burr--from what?"
+
+"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!"
+
+"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!"
+
+"It would seem, sir," said Aaron Burr, a cynical smile twisting his
+thin lip, "that I may not count upon your friendship!"
+
+"That is a hard speech, Colonel Burr. I was your friend."
+
+"More than your chief ever was! I fancy Mr. Jefferson would like to
+see me pilloried, drawn and quartered, after the old way."
+
+"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."
+
+"I am a plain man, and a busy man," said Aaron Burr coldly. "I must
+employ my time now to the betterment 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 _you_, sir, with your cursed expedition, that
+defeated Aaron Burr!"
+
+He turned, proud and defiant even in his failure, and when Meriwether
+Lewis looked up he was gone.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 she--what had been her
+perils? What were her thoughts?
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Yea! Yea! Now I know!"
+
+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 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!
+
+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.
+
+"Sir--Captain--that is to say, Governor Lewis," she corrected herself,
+"I was not expecting you."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"I shall say no word to change that belief," said Meriwether Lewis.
+"But your husband is not here? It is he whom I must see at once."
+
+"Why must you see him?"
+
+"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."
+
+"But--_suppose he does not know_?"
+
+He could only stand silent, regarding her fixedly.
+
+"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!"
+
+"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 _treason_. Tell me, did
+you know this when you came to me?"
+
+He saw the quick pain upon her face, the flush that rose to her pale
+cheek. She drew herself up proudly.
+
+"I shall not answer that!" said she.
+
+"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."
+
+"I only wanted you to be happy--that was my one desire."
+
+She looked aside, and a moment passed before she heard his deep voice
+reply.
+
+"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?"
+
+"_My father's freedom!_"
+
+"I cannot promise that; but all that I can do I will."
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"[6]
+
+[Footnote 6: 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.
+
+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!]
+
+"That is impossible. What do you mean?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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. _Ergo_----"
+
+"_Ergo_, Mr. Jefferson is not hostile to us! And you would do
+that--you would take that chance?"
+
+"For you."
+
+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 his arm, pale, clad all in black, walked the
+daughter of the prisoner at the bar!
+
+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.
+
+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. _Ergo, ergo_, 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Between them, as they stood now at last, about to part, there
+stretched an abysmal gulf which might never personally be passed by
+either.
+
+She faced him at length, trembling, pleading, helpless.
+
+"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!"
+
+"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!"
+
+"I cannot say good-by!" said she. "Ah, do not ask me that! We are but
+beginning now. Oh, see! see!"
+
+He looked at her still, an unspeakable sadness in his gaze--at her
+hand, extended pleadingly toward him.
+
+"Won't you take my hand, Merne?" said she. "Won't you?"
+
+"I dare not," said he hoarsely. "No, I dare not!"
+
+"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!"
+
+"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--because I love you! I always shall. God help me, it is
+the truth!"
+
+"Did you get my letters?" she said suddenly, and looked him fair in
+the face.
+
+Meriwether Lewis stood searching her countenance with his own grave
+eyes.
+
+"_Letters?_" said he at length. "_What letters?_"
+
+Her eyes looked up at him luminously.
+
+"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!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+THE FRIENDS
+
+
+Allied 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.
+
+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.
+
+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 swarm of conflicts over land-titles.
+Scores of new duties arose, and scores of new remedies needed to be
+devised.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+But at last one means of attack was found. Once more--the last
+time--the great heart of a noble man was pierced.
+
+"Will," said he to his friend, as they met at William Clark's home,
+according to their frequent custom, "I am in trouble."
+
+"Fancied trouble, Merne," said Clark. "You're always finding it!"
+
+"Would I might call it fancied! But this is something 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."
+
+"Tut, tut!" said William Clark gravely. "Come, let us see."
+
+"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?"
+
+"But Merne, you, the soul of honor----"
+
+"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."
+
+"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 minute. You are among your friends. Do not
+grieve. 'Twill all come well!"
+
+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:
+
+     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.
+
+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.
+
+In this he was well supported by his friend Dr. Saugrain.
+
+"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 Orleans and the sea. The voyage will do you much good."
+
+"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."
+
+"Your Excellency plans to go by land, then, and not by sea?"
+
+"I do not know. I must save all the time possible. And Peria----"
+
+"Yes, Excellency."
+
+"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."
+
+"Yes, Excellency."
+
+"Do not call me 'Excellency'--I detest the title! I am Governor Lewis,
+and may so be distinguished. 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."
+
+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.
+
+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 _en masse_ to bid him godspeed upon his
+journey.
+
+"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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"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!"
+
+"Governor, see if you can get me an artificial limb of some sort while
+you are in the East."
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Good-by, Will!" said he.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+THE WILDERNESS
+
+
+The 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.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Governor Lewis!" exclaimed Major Neely, as he met him. "You are ill!
+You are in an ague!"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Major," said he, "I can ride now. Have you horses for the journey?"
+
+"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.
+
+"It is not a question of my personal convenience, Major," said
+Meriwether Lewis. "Time presses for me. I must go on!"
+
+"At least you shall not go alone," said Major Neely. "You should have
+some escort. Doubtless you have important papers?"
+
+Meriwether Lewis nodded.
+
+"My servant has arranged everything, I fancy. Can you get an extra man
+or two? The Natchez Trace is none too safe."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"He talks to himself all the time," said one of the 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.
+
+"What is wrong with the Governor, think you?" inquired this man once
+more of Peria, Lewis's servant.
+
+"It is his way," shrugged Peria. "We leave him alone. His hand is
+heavy when he is angry."
+
+"He rides always with his rifle across his saddle?"
+
+"Always, on the trail."
+
+"Loaded, I presume--and his pistols?"
+
+"You may well suppose that," said Peria.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Naturally," grinned Peria.
+
+They looked at one another. And thereafter the two, as was well noted,
+conversed often and more intimately together as the journey
+progressed.
+
+"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
+wear a coat that shows his own quality? This one's a dozen years old,
+you might say."
+
+"He always wears it on the trail," said Peria. "At home he watches it
+as if it held some treasure."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"And what of you, Governor?"
+
+"I shall go on ahead, if you please. Is there no house near by? You
+know the trail. Perhaps we can get lodgings not far on."
+
+"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?"
+
+"Agreed," said Lewis, and setting spurs to his horse, he left them.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"A half-dozen, with an extra horse or two."
+
+"I reckon we can fix ye up. Light down and come in."
+
+She was noting well her guest, and her shrewd eyes 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.
+
+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.
+
+"Set up and eat," she said at last. "I reckon your men are not
+coming."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"Yes. Some of my folks is thinking of going out further into the
+West."
+
+He turned to her abstractedly, yet endeavoring to be courteous.
+
+"A wonderful country, Madam!" said he; and so he fell again into his
+moody staring out beyond the door.
+
+After a time the hostess of the backwoods cabin sought to make up a
+bed for him, but he motioned to her to desist.
+
+"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."
+
+Peria, it seemed, had by this time found his way to the cabin along
+the trail. He was alone.
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"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 Neely? Where are the other men? Why have they not come
+up?"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+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. 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.
+
+It was a face that he had seen before--a hundred times he had gazed
+thus at it on the far Western trails.
+
+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:
+
+     You must not kiss my picture, because I am in your power.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+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. His haggard face was lighted by its flare as he stood
+there, leaning out, listening.
+
+It was then that his doom came to him.
+
+There came the sound of a shot; a second; and yet another.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+He was bleeding from three wounds; but still he stood and spoke to
+her.
+
+"In God's name, Madam," said he, "bring me water! I am killed!"
+
+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.
+
+She heard no sound. She flung open the door and 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+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--_Theodosia!_
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+"Your wish--your great desire--your hope--your dream--all these shall
+be yours at last, even though the trail be long, even though the
+burden be too heavy to carry farther."
+
+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.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+But not her power nor any power could heal such wounds as his. Once
+more she called out for aid, and none came.
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+DOWN TO THE SEA
+
+
+Many 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.
+
+"Your son was a brave man--he lived long," said Peria, haltingly, at
+the close of his story.
+
+"Yes," said the mother of Meriwether Lewis. "He was a brave man. He
+was strong!"
+
+"He was unhappy; but why he should have killed himself----"
+
+"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!"
+
+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
+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.
+
+Soon there came down from Monticello to Locust Hall the coach of
+Thomas Jefferson.
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"Whom had he ever harmed?" she demanded of Jefferson.
+
+"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!"
+
+"Never, Mr. Jefferson, never will I believe that! It was not in his
+nature!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"He never wronged a woman in his life----"
+
+"Precisely, nor in his death would he wrong one! Do you begin to see?"
+
+"Did he ever speak to you of her?"
+
+"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."
+
+"But shall I let that stain rest on his name?" The dark eye of the old
+woman gleamed upon her son's friend.
+
+"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 we shall not ask to know.
+If ever he sinned, he is purged of any sin."
+
+Jefferson was silent for a moment, holding the bereaved mother's hand
+in his own.
+
+"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."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+What of Theodosia Alston, loyal and lofty soul, blameless wife,
+devoted and pathetic adherent to the fallen fortunes of her
+ill-starred father?
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+To this day none knows what was the fate of Aaron 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:
+
+     "I hope to be happy in the next world, for I have not been
+     bad in this."
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+That is the happy ending of his story--his country! It is ours. As its
+title came to us in honor, it is for 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.
+
+
+
+
+ "_The Books You Like to Read at the Price You Like to Pay_"
+
+ There Are Two Sides to Everything--
+
+ --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.
+
+ You will find more than five hundred titles to choose
+ from--books for every mood and every taste and every
+ pocket-book.
+
+ _Don't forget the other side, but in case the wrapper is
+ lost, write to the publishers for a complete catalog._
+
+ _There is a Grosset & Dunlap Book for every mood and for
+ every taste_
+
+
+
+
+ EMERSON HOUGH'S NOVELS
+
+ May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.
+
+ THE COVERED WAGON
+
+ An epic story of the Great West from which the famous
+ picture was made.
+
+ THE WAY OF A MAN
+
+ A colorful romance of the pioneer West before the
+ Civil War.
+
+ THE SAGEBRUSHER
+
+ An Eastern girl answers a matrimonial ad. and goes out
+ West in the hills of Montana to find her mate.
+
+ THE WAY OUT
+
+ A romance of the feud district of the Cumberland country.
+
+ THE BROKEN GATE
+
+ A story of broken social conventions and of a woman's
+ determination to put the past behind her.
+
+ THE WAY TO THE WEST
+
+ Daniel Boone, Davy Crockett and Kit Carson figure in
+ this story of the opening of the West.
+
+ HEART'S DESIRE
+
+ The story of what happens when the railroad came to a
+ little settlement in the far West.
+
+ THE PURCHASE PRICE
+
+ A story of Kentucky during the days after the American
+ Revolution.
+
+ GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Magnificent Adventure, by Emerson Hough
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAGNIFICENT ADVENTURE ***
+
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+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">
+  <head>
+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" />
+    <title>
+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Magnificent Adventure, by Emerson Hough.
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Magnificent Adventure, by Emerson Hough
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Magnificent Adventure
+       Being the Story of the World's Greatest Exploration and
+              the Romance of a Very Gallant Gentleman
+
+Author: Emerson Hough
+
+Illustrator: Arthur I. Keller
+
+Release Date: October 20, 2009 [EBook #30298]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAGNIFICENT ADVENTURE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by D Alexander and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
+produced from images generously made available by The
+Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<div class="centerbox bbox"><h2>THE<br />
+MAGNIFICENT<br />
+ADVENTURE</h2>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Being the Story of the World&#8217;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 &amp; 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="&#8220;&#8216;Him Ro&#8217;shones,&#8217; replied the girl&#8221;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&#8220;&#8216;Him Ro&#8217;shones,&#8217; replied the girl&#8221;
+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">&nbsp;</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&#8217;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&#8217;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&#8217;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">&#8220;&#8216;Him Ro&#8217;shones,&#8217; replied the girl&#8221;</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">&#8220;&#8216;Mistah Thomas Jeffahson!&#8217; was his sole announcement&#8221;</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Illo1">50</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">&#8220;&#8216;Oh, Theo, what have I done?&#8217;&#8221;</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Illo2">162</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">&#8220;Her face indeed!&#8221;</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&mdash;a woman now approaching middle age&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;its flung doors opening it from front to rear to
+the gaze as one approached&mdash;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&mdash;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>outr&eacute;</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&mdash;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&mdash;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&#8217;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>&#8220;I am late, mother,&#8221; said he at length, as he turned and, seating
+himself at her feet, threw his arm across her lap&mdash;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>&#8220;You are late, yes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And you waited&mdash;so long?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am always waiting for you, Merne,&#8221; said she. She used the
+Elizabethan vowel, as one should pronounce &#8220;bird,&#8221; with no sound of
+&#8220;u&#8221;&mdash;&#8220;Mairne,&#8221; the name sounded as she spoke it. And her voice was
+full and rich and strong, as was her son&#8217;s; musically strong.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am always waiting for you, Merne,&#8221; said she. &#8220;But I long ago
+learned not to expect anything else of you.&#8221; She spoke with not the
+least reproach in her tone. &#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And you did not fear for me, then&mdash;gone overnight in the woods?&#8221; He
+half smiled at that thought himself.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You know I would not. I know you, what you are&mdash;born woodsman. No, I
+trust you to care for yourself in any wild country, my son, and to
+come back. And then&mdash;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?&#8221;</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>&#8220;I did not desert my duty, mother,&#8221; said he at length.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, no, you would not do that, Merne!&#8221; returned the widow.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Please, mother,&#8221; said he suddenly, &#8220;I want you to call me by my full
+name&mdash;that of your people. Am I not Meriwether, too?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The hand on his forehead ceased its gentle movement, fell to its
+owner&#8217;s lap. A sigh passed his mother&#8217;s set lips.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, my son, Meriwether,&#8221; said she. &#8220;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am Meriwether Lewis, mother,&#8221; said he gravely, and no more.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Yes!&#8221; She spoke absently, musingly. &#8220;Yes, you always were!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I went westward, clear across the Ragged Mountains,&#8221; said the youth.
+&#8220;These&#8221;&mdash;and he pointed with contempt to the small trophies at his
+belt&mdash;&#8220;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&mdash;the
+woods were beautiful today. As to the trails, even if there is no
+trail, I know the way back home&mdash;you know that, mother.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know that, my son, yes. You were born for the forest. I fear I
+shall not hold you long on this quiet farm.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;for I hold it sure that Mr.
+Jefferson will go there in some still higher place. He was my father&#8217;s
+friend, and is ours still.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It may be that you will go to Washington, my son,&#8221; said his mother;
+&#8220;I do not know. But will you stay there? The forest will call to you
+all your life&mdash;all your life! Do I not know you, then? Can I not see
+your life&mdash;all your life&mdash;as plainly as if it were written? Do I not
+know&mdash;your mother? Why should not your mother know?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He looked around at her rather gravely once again, unsmilingly, for he
+rarely smiled.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How do you know, mother? What do you know? Tell me&mdash;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;must do&mdash;because it
+was written for you. Yonder forest will always call to you.&#8221; She
+turned now toward the sun, sinking across the red-leaved forest lands.
+&#8220;The wilderness is your home. You will go out into it and
+return&mdash;often; and then at last you will go and not come back
+again&mdash;not to me&mdash;not to anyone will you come back.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The youth did not move as she sat, her hands on his head. Her voice
+went on, even and steady.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;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&mdash;gained through that will which never would bend for
+me or for anyone else in the world!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He remained motionless, apparently unaffected, as his mother went on.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You were always old, always grown up, always resolved, always your
+own master&mdash;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&mdash;I can see her black
+face grinning now&mdash;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&mdash;you recognized sight and sound together, as no child usually
+does for months. You were beautiful, my boy, so strong, so
+straight&mdash;ah, yes!&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She paused, but still he did not speak.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;call it what
+you like&mdash;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&mdash;you must, my son. Beyond all other
+men, you will suffer!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You were better named Cassandra, mother!&#8221; Yet the young man scarce
+smiled even now.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I am a prophetess, all too sooth a prophetess, my son. I see
+ahead as only a mother can see&mdash;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The boy nodded now.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then know how your own must be racked in turn!&#8221; said she. &#8220;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&mdash;you
+will drive yourself. What that means to you in agony&mdash;what that means
+when your will is set against the unalterable and the inevitable&mdash;I
+wish&mdash;oh, I wish I could not see it! But I do see it, now, all laid
+out before me&mdash;all, all! Oh, Merne&mdash;may I not call you Merne once more
+before I let you go?&#8221;</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>&#8220;Tragedy is yours, my son,&#8221; said she, slowly, &#8220;not happiness. No woman
+will ever come and lie in your arms happy and content.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mother!&#8221;</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>&#8220;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&mdash;I see that for you, my
+first-born boy! You will love&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;such a man as you will be!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She sighed, shivered, and looked about her, startled, as if she had
+spoken aloud in some dream.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, then, go on!&#8221; 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. &#8220;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&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You give me no long shrift, mother?&#8221; said the youth, with a twinkle
+in his eye.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&#8217;s
+future&mdash;if she dares to read it. She knows&mdash;she knows!&#8221;</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>&#8220;Listen, Merne,&#8221; she said. &#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Again silence fell between them before she went on, her hand again
+resting on her son&#8217;s dark hair.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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!&#8221;</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&mdash;for
+the last time in his life&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;then but beginning to lighten
+under the rays of the morning sun&mdash;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&#8217;s ears.</p>
+
+<p>Sitting as erect and as easily as any cavalier of the world&#8217;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&mdash;a
+horse deep bay in color, high-mettled, a mount fit for a monarch&mdash;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&mdash;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&#8217;s
+favorite saddler. It was the duty as well as the delight of Mr.
+Jefferson&#8217;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&#8217;s face was grave, his mouth unsmiling&mdash;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&#8217;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&mdash;the
+voice of a woman&mdash;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&mdash;one
+of the mottled, harmless species sometimes locally called the
+blow-snake&mdash;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&#8217;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;or had you taken consent&mdash;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&mdash;a flush which shamed him, but
+which he could not master. He only kept his eyes straight between his
+horse&#8217;s ears as he rode&mdash;after he had raised his hat and bowed at the
+close of the episode.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am to thank Captain Lewis once more,&#8221; began the young woman, in a
+voice vibrant and clear&mdash;the sweetest, kindest voice in the world. &#8220;It
+is good fortune that you rode abroad so early this morning. You always
+come at need!&#8221;</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>&#8220;Can you then call it good fortune?&#8221; His own voice was low,
+suppressed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why not, then?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You did not need me. A moment, and you would have been in command
+again&mdash;there was no real need of me. Ah, you never need me!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yet you come. You were here, had the need been worse. And, indeed, I
+was quite off my guard&mdash;I must have been thinking of something else.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And I also.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And there was the serpent.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;and
+let it fall again?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Captain Meriwether Lewis is singularly gloomy this morning!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not more than I have been always. How brief was my little hour! Yet
+for that time I knew paradise&mdash;as I do now. We should part here,
+madam, now, forever. Yon serpent spelled danger for both of us.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;For both of us?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, forgive me! None the less, I could not help my thoughts&mdash;cannot
+help them now. I ride here every morning. I saw your horse&#8217;s
+hoof-marks some two miles back. Do you suppose I did not know whose
+they were?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;And you followed me? Ah!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I suppose I did, and yet I did not. If I did I knew I was riding to
+my fate.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She would have spoken&mdash;her lips half parted&mdash;but what she might have
+said none heard.</p>
+
+<p>He went on:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You have never spoken aught else to any human soul. That I know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Her face was troubled. She looked aside as she replied in a voice low,
+but firm:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Any woman would be glad to hear such words from Captain Lewis, and I
+am glad. But&mdash;the honest wife never lived who could listen to them
+often.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know that,&#8221; he said simply.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No!&#8221; Her voice was very low now; her eyes soft and cast down as they
+fell upon a ring under her glove. &#8220;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&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;when I first had my captain&#8217;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&mdash;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&mdash;and there is harm for you, whom all good men should wish to
+shield.&#8221;</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>&#8220;Good-by!&#8221; said he. &#8220;Now we may go on for the brief space that remains
+for us,&#8221; he added a moment later. &#8220;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I trust Captain Meriwether Lewis,&#8221; 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&#8217;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>&#8220;Theodosia, look!&#8221; said the young man, suddenly swinging a gesture
+about him. &#8220;Did I not say right? It is Eden! Ah, what a pity it is
+that Eden must ever be the same&mdash;a serpent&mdash;repentance&mdash;and farewell!
+Yet it was so beautiful.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A sinless Eden, sir.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No! I will not lie&mdash;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&mdash;I am fortunate that it came by chance today.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Going away&mdash;where, then, my friend?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;to learn that I had come too late! But the West still is
+there&mdash;the wilderness still exists to welcome such as me!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But you will&mdash;you will come back again?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;as one must, to
+journey into the desert yonder. If only I dared orient my soul as
+well!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You would never doubt my faith in my husband.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No! Of course, you love your husband. I could not look at you a
+second time if you did not.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are a good man, Meriwether Lewis!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do not say it! I am a man accursed of evil passions&mdash;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&mdash;tell me it will
+change&mdash;tell me that I shall forget! I should not believe you&mdash;but
+tell me that. Does a man never forget? Success&mdash;for others;
+happiness&mdash;for someone else. My mother said that was to be my fate.
+What did she mean?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And a woman may divide not love, only love of love itself?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I shall love your future, and shall watch it always,&#8221; she replied,
+coloring. &#8220;You will be a great man, and there will be a great place
+for you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And what then?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;remember me as long as you can, Meriwether Lewis.&#8221;</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>&#8220;As long as I can?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes. Let your own mind run on the ambitions of a proud man, a strong
+man. Ambition&mdash;power&mdash;place&mdash;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.&#8221;</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>&#8220;I want to see you happy after a time&mdash;with some good woman at your
+side&mdash;your children by you&mdash;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I do not seem to change,&#8221; said he simply. &#8220;I hope I shall be
+able to carry my burden and to hold my trail.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Fie! I will not have such talk on a morning like this.&#8221;</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>&#8220;A good journey, Meriwether Lewis,&#8221; said she, &#8220;and a happy return from
+it! Cast away such melancholy&mdash;you will forget all this!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Forgive me, then,&#8221; she said, and once more her small hand reached out
+toward him. &#8220;I would not wound you. I asked you only to remember me
+as&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;As&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;As I shall you, of course. And I remember that bright day when you
+came to me&mdash;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;More likely six years. If there is healing for me, the wilderness
+alone must give it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I shall be an old woman&mdash;old and sallow from the Carolina suns. You
+will have forgotten me then.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is enough,&#8221; said he. &#8220;You have lightened my burden for me as much
+as may be&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, Meriwether Lewis,&#8221; said she quietly, &#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He raised a hand.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;I will
+not have it! Only this remains to comfort me&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Go, then, my savage gentleman, and let me&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And let you never see my face again?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She rose and stood looking at him, her own eyes wet with a sudden
+moisture.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Women worth loving are so few!&#8221; she said slowly. &#8220;Clean men are so
+few! How a woman could have loved you, Meriwether Lewis! How some
+woman ought to love you! Yes, go now,&#8221; she concluded. &#8220;Yes, go!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mrs. Alston will wait with you here for a few moments,&#8221; said
+Meriwether Lewis to the miller&#8217;s wife quietly. He stood with his
+bridle rein across his arm. &#8220;See that she is very comfortable. She
+might have a second cup of your good coffee?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He swung into his saddle, reined his horse about, turned and bowed
+formally to his late <i>vis-&agrave;-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&mdash;intent as he was upon his present business
+of keeping company with a skilled horseman&mdash;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&mdash;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&#8217;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&mdash;indeed, his
+whole air and carriage&mdash;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>&#8220;Ah, Captain Lewis!&#8221; he said in a voice of extraordinary sweetness,
+yet of power. &#8220;You also have caught the secret of this climate, eh?
+You ride in the early morning&mdash;I do not wonder. You are Virginian, and
+so know the heats of Washington. I fancy you recognize Mr. Merry,&#8221; he
+added, his glance turning from one to the other.</p>
+
+<p>The young Virginian bowed to both gentlemen.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;to say&mdash;that he enjoys it!&#8221;</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>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; said the envoy, &#8220;to be sure I recall the young man. I met him
+in the anteroom at the President&#8217;s house.&#8221;</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&#8217;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>&#8220;And you are done your ride?&#8221; said Burr quickly, for his was a keen
+nose to scent any complication. &#8220;Tell me&#8221;&mdash;he lifted his own reins now
+to proceed&mdash;&#8220;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?&#8221;</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>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; he replied calmly, &#8220;I have seen Mrs. Alston. I left her but now
+at the old mill, having a cup of coffee with the miller&#8217;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You see!&#8221; laughed Burr, as he turned to Merry. &#8220;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!&#8221;</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>&#8220;There is the ablest man I have seen in Washington,&#8221; blurted out Merry
+suddenly, apropos of nothing that had been said. &#8220;He has manners, and
+he rides like an Englishman.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Say not so!&#8221; said Burr, laughing. &#8220;Better&mdash;he rides like a
+Virginian!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Very well; it is the same thing. The Virginians are but
+ourselves&mdash;this country is all English yet. And I swear&mdash;Mr. Burr, may
+we speak freely?&mdash;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&mdash;like you&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You know well enough how far I agree with you,&#8221; said Burr somberly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;Tis an experiment, our republic, I am willing to say that boldly to
+you, at least. How long it may last&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Depends on men like you,&#8221; said Merry, suddenly <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>turning upon him as
+they rode. &#8220;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&mdash;cooling our heels in your
+President&#8217;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It may be, Mr. Merry,&#8221; said Aaron Burr. &#8220;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,&#8221; he added, &#8220;whether
+those two young people really were together there at the old mill&mdash;and
+whether they were there for the first time.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If not, &#8217;twas not for the last time!&#8221; rejoined the older man. &#8220;Yonder
+young man was made to fill a woman&#8217;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How then, Mr. Minister?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;One for her father&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Aaron Burr bowed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, her father first, as I verily believe. What then?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The second for her husband&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Certainly. Mr. Alston is a rising man. He has a thousand slaves on
+his plantations&mdash;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&mdash;more than a
+chance. But after that?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The third portion of so charming a woman&#8217;s heart might perhaps be
+assigned to Captain Meriwether Lewis!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Say you so?&#8221; laughed Burr carelessly. &#8220;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&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why should she not? And why should she not ride with a gallant at
+sunrise for an early cup of coffee, egad?&#8221; 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&mdash;her face still cast down, her eyes
+gazing abstractedly into her untasted cup on the little
+table&mdash;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&#8217;s private
+servants, Samson, who took the young man&#8217;s rein, grinning with his
+usual familiar words of welcome as the secretary dismounted from his
+horse.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You-all suttinly did warm old Arcturum a li&#8217;l bit dis mawnin&#8217;, Mistah
+Mehywethah!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Samson patted the neck of the spirited animal, which tossed its head
+and turned an eye to its late rider.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&#8217;s hide
+he will cut off both your black ears for you, Samson&mdash;and very likely
+your head along with them. You know your master!&#8221; The secretary smiled
+kindly at the old black man.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yassah, yassah,&#8221; grinned Samson, who no more feared Mr. Jefferson
+than he did the young gentleman with whom he now spoke. &#8220;I just
+lookin&#8217; at you comin&#8217; down that path right now, and I say to myself,
+&#8216;Dar come a ridah!&#8217; I sho&#8217; did, Mistah Mehywethah!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The young man answered the negro&#8217;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&#8217;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&mdash;another of Mr. Jefferson&#8217;s plantation servants whom he had
+brought to Washington with him. Then&mdash;for such was the simple fashion
+of the m&eacute;nage, where Meriwether Lewis himself was one of the
+President&#8217;s family&mdash;he stepped to the door beyond and knocked lightly,
+entering as he did so.</p>
+
+<p>The hour was early&mdash;he himself had not breakfasted, beyond his coffee
+at the mill&mdash;but, early as it was, he knew he would find at his desk
+the gentleman who now turned to him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good morning, Mr. Jefferson,&#8221; 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>&#8220;Good morning, my son,&#8221; said the other man, gently, in his invariable
+address to his secretary. &#8220;And how did Arcturus perform for you this
+morning?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Grandly, sir. He is a fine animal. I have never ridden a better.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I envy you. I wish I could find the time I once had for my horses.&#8221;
+He turned a whimsical glance at the piled desk before him. &#8220;If our new
+multigraph could write a dozen letters all at once&mdash;and on as many
+different themes, my son&mdash;we might perhaps get through. I vow, if I
+had the money, I would have a dozen secretaries&mdash;if I could find
+them!&#8221;</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&mdash;indeed, scarce knew that they existed. To think,
+to feel, to create, to achieve&mdash;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&mdash;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>&#8220;I do not see how I could be President without you, Merne, my son,&#8221;
+said he, employing the familiar term that Meriwether Lewis had not
+elsewhere heard used, except by his mother. &#8220;Look what we must do
+today!&#8221;</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>&#8220;Mr. Jefferson&mdash;&#8221; 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>&#8220;Yes, my son?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Your burden is grievous hard, and yet&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, my son?&#8221;</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>&#8220;Come, come, my son,&#8221; said he, his own voice low and of a kindness it
+could assume at times. &#8220;You must not&mdash;you must not yield to this, I
+say. Shake off this melancholy which so obsesses you. I know whence it
+comes&mdash;your father gave it you, and you are not to blame; but you have
+more than your father&#8217;s strength to aid you. And you have me, your
+friend, who can understand.&#8221;</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>&#8220;What is it, Merne?&#8221; he demanded. &#8220;Tell me. Ah, you cannot tell? I
+know! &#8217;Tis the old melancholy, and something more, Merne, my boy. Tell
+me&mdash;ah, yes, it is a woman!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The young man did not speak.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have often told all my young friends,&#8221; said Mr. Jefferson slowly,
+after a time, &#8220;that they should marry not later than twenty-three&mdash;it
+is wrong to cheat the years of life&mdash;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&#8217;s face in his desk to haunt him. That will not do. We all
+have handicap enough without that.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>But still Meriwether could only look into the face of his superior.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know very well, my son,&#8221; the President continued. &#8220;I know it all.
+Put her out of your heart, my boy. Would you shame yourself&mdash;and
+her&mdash;and me?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No! Never would I do that, Mr. Jefferson, believe me. But now I must
+beg of you&mdash;please, sir, let me go soon&mdash;let it be at once!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The older man stood looking at him for a time in silence, as he went
+on hurriedly:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I must say good-by to you, best and noblest of men. Indeed, I have
+said good-by to&mdash;everything.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;As you say, your case is hopeless?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, sir.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I asked you when I was a boy to send me, but you could not then.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;no man knows what&mdash;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&mdash;you are ready to my
+hand as the instrument for this magnificent adventure. I cannot well
+spare you now&mdash;but yes, you must go!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>They stood there, two men who made our great adventure for
+us&mdash;vision-seers, vision-owned, gazing each into the other&#8217;s eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Send me now, Mr. Jefferson!&#8221; repeated Meriwether Lewis. &#8220;Send me now.
+I will mend to usefulness again. I will work for you all my life, if
+need be&mdash;and I want my name clear with you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The old man laid a kindly hand upon his shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I must yield you to your destiny,&#8221; said he. &#8220;It will be a great one.&#8221;
+He turned aside, a hand to his lip as he paced uncertainly. &#8220;But I
+still am wondering what our friends are doing yonder in France,&#8221; said
+he. &#8220;That is the question. Livingston, Monroe, and the others&mdash;what
+are they doing with Napoleon Bonaparte? The news from France&mdash;but
+stay,&#8221; he added. &#8220;Wait! I had forgotten. Come, we shall see about it!&#8221;</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&mdash;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>&#8220;Done!&#8221; 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>&#8220;I told them,&#8221; said he, &#8220;to loose a half-dozen birds at once. See!
+See!&#8221;</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&mdash;Fifteen millions&mdash;Rejoice!</p></div>
+
+<p>In no wider phrasing than that came the news of the great Louisiana
+Purchase, by virtue of which this republic&mdash;whether by chance, by
+result of greed warring with greed, or through the providence of
+Almighty God, who shall say?&mdash;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&#8217;s best, a hope for millions of the earth&#8217;s less
+fortunate&mdash;granary of the peoples, mint of the nations, birthplace and
+growing-ground of the new race of men&mdash;who could have measured that
+land then&mdash;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&#8217;s
+covenant with man&mdash;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>&#8220;Mr. Jefferson,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis, &#8220;this is your monument!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And yours,&#8221; was the reply. &#8220;Come, then!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He turned to the stairs, the pigeon still fondled in his arm. That
+bird&mdash;a white one, with slate-blue tips to its wings&mdash;never needed to
+labor again, for Mr. Jefferson kept it during its life, and long after
+its death.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Come now,&#8221; he said, as he began to descend the ladder once more. &#8220;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&mdash;the greatest of news that we could have.
+Yesterday&mdash;this morning&mdash;we were a young and weak republic. Tomorrow
+we shall be one of the powers of the world. Go, now&mdash;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Neither said anything further until once again they were in the
+President&#8217;s little office-room; but Thomas Jefferson&#8217;s eye now was
+afire.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I count this the most important enterprise in which this country ever
+was engaged,&#8221; he exclaimed, his hands clenched. &#8220;Yonder lies the
+greater America&mdash;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&mdash;you see it&mdash;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.&#8221;</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>&#8220;I give you my promise, Mr. Jefferson,&#8221; 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. &#8220;Mr. Jefferson,&#8221; ventured he, &#8220;you
+will pardon me&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, my son?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It grows late. You know that today the British minister, Mr. Merry,
+comes to meet the President for the first time formally&mdash;at dinner.
+Se&ntilde;or Yrujo also&mdash;and their ladies, of course. Mr. Burr and Mr. Merry
+seem already acquainted. I met them riding this morning.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hand and glove, then, so soon? What do you make of it? I have a guess
+that those three&mdash;Burr, Merry, Yrujo&mdash;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I thought perhaps I should go to my rooms to change for dinner. You
+see that I am still in riding-clothes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;And what of that, my son? I am in something worse!&#8221;</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&mdash;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>&#8220;You think I will not do?&#8221; Mr. Jefferson smiled at him frankly. &#8220;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Meriwether Lewis allowed himself a smile.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Go,&#8221; added his chief. &#8220;Garb yourself as I would have you&mdash;in your
+best. But there will be no precedence at table this evening&mdash;remember
+that! Let them take seats pell-mell&mdash;the devil take the hindmost&mdash;a
+fair field for every one, and favor to none! Seat them as nearly as
+possible as they should not be seated&mdash;and leave the rest to me. All
+these&mdash;indeed, all history and all the records&mdash;shall take me
+precisely as I am!&#8221;</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&mdash;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&#8217;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&#8217;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&#8217;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&mdash;a group evidently ill at ease and no longer in good humor.
+Meriwether Lewis made his way thither rapidly as he might.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is Mr. Minister Merry,&#8221; said he, &#8220;and Mme. Merry.&#8221; He bowed
+deeply. &#8220;Se&ntilde;or and Se&ntilde;ora Yrujo, I bring you the respects of Mr.
+Jefferson. He will be with us presently.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I had believed, sir&mdash;I understood,&#8221; began Merry explosively, &#8220;that we
+were to meet here the President of the United States. Where, then, is
+his suite?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We have no suite, sir. I represent the President as his aide.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My word!&#8221; 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="&#8220;&#8216;Mistah Thomas Jeffahson!&#8217; was his sole announcement&#8221;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&#8220;&#8216;Mistah Thomas Jeffahson!&#8217; was his sole announcement&#8221;</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>&#8220;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&mdash;or am I mistaken of the hour? Is it not
+four in the afternoon?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You were quite right, Mr. Minister,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis. &#8220;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.&#8221;</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>&#8220;Mistah Thomas Jeffahson!&#8221; 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&mdash;the same in which he had climbed
+to the pigeon loft&mdash;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&mdash;horror of horrors!&mdash;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>&#8220;Tell me,&#8221; demanded Mr. Merry, who&mdash;seeing that no other escort
+offered for her&mdash;had given his angry lady his own arm, &#8220;tell me, sir,
+where is the President? To whom shall I present the greetings of his
+British Majesty?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yonder is the President of the United States, sir,&#8221; said Meriwether
+Lewis. &#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Merry turned to his wife, and from her to the wife of the Spanish
+minister.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Impossible!&#8221; said he. &#8220;I do not understand&mdash;it cannot be! That
+man&mdash;that extraordinary man in breeches and slippers yonder&mdash;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;None the less he is, Mr. Merry!&#8221; the secretary assured him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good Heavens!&#8221; 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&mdash;none offering escort.</p>
+
+<p>Well disposed to smile at his chief&#8217;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&mdash;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&#8217;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&mdash;as a look at the
+sudden change of his features might have told&mdash;so did Mr. Jefferson&#8217;s
+aide.</p>
+
+<p>They advanced with dignity, these two&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;his enemies, men of the opposing political party,
+for the most part&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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 &#8220;deserted the victuals of his country.&#8221; 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&#8217;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">Hu&icirc;tres de Shinnecock, Saulce Temp&ecirc;te<br />
+Olives du Luc<br />
+Othon Marin&eacute; &agrave; l&#8217;Huile Vierge<br />
+Amandes et Cerneaux Sal&eacute;s<br />
+Pot au Feu du Roy &#8220;Henriot&#8221;<br />
+Croustade Mogador<br />
+Truite de Ruisselet, Belle Meuni&egrave;re<br />
+Pommes en Fines Herbes<br />
+Fricot de tendre Poulet en Coquemare, au Vieux Chanturgne<br />
+Tourte de Ris de Veau, Financi&egrave;re<br />
+Baron de Pr&eacute; Sal&eacute; aux Primeurs<br />
+Sorbet des Comtes de Champagne<br />
+Dinde Sauvage flamb&eacute;e devant les Sarments de Vigne,<br />
+flanqu&eacute;e d&#8217;Ortolans<br />
+Aspic de Foie Gras Lucullus<br />
+Salade des Nymphes &agrave; la Lamballe<br />
+Asperges Chauldes enduites de Sauce<br />
+Lombardienne<br />
+Dessert et Fruits de la R&eacute;union<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>Fromage de Bique<br />
+Caf&eacute; 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&mdash;vintages of rarity, selected as could have been
+done only by one of the nicest taste. Rumor had it that none other
+than Se&ntilde;or 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>&#8220;Upon my word!&#8221; said the sturdy Briton, turning to him. &#8220;Such wine I
+never have tasted! I did not expect it here&mdash;served by a host in
+breeches and slippers! But never mind&mdash;it is wonderful!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There may be many things here you have not expected, your
+excellency,&#8221; 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>&#8220;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&mdash;myself, my lady here, and these others. Is this the placing his
+Majesty&#8217;s minister should have at the President&#8217;s table? Is this what
+we should demand here?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The indignity is to all of us alike,&#8221; smiled Burr. &#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I shall report the entire matter to his Majesty&#8217;s government!&#8221; said
+Mr. Merry, again helping himself to wine. &#8220;To be received here by a
+man in his stable clothes&mdash;so to meet us when we come formally to pay
+our call to this government&mdash;that is an insult! I fancy it to be a
+direct and intentional one.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Insult is small word for it,&#8221; broke in the irate Spanish minister,
+still further down the table. &#8220;I certainly shall report to my own
+government what has happened here&mdash;of that be very sure!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Give me leave, sir,&#8221; continued Merry. &#8220;This republic, what is it?
+What has it done?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I ask as much,&#8221; affirmed Yrujo. &#8220;A small war with your own country,
+Great Britain, sir&mdash;in which only your generosity held you back&mdash;that
+is all this country can claim. In the South, my people own the mouth
+of the great river&mdash;we own Florida&mdash;we own the province of Texas&mdash;all
+the Southern and Western <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>lands. True, Louis XV&mdash;to save it from Great
+Britain, perhaps, sir&#8221;&mdash;he bowed to the British minister&mdash;&#8220;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Se&ntilde;or Yrujo helped himself to a brimming glass of his own wine.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I say that Western country is ours,&#8221; he still insisted, warming to
+his oration now. &#8220;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&mdash;those are the rights under which territories
+are annexed. France has the title to that West, but we hold the land
+itself&mdash;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Will Spain fight?&#8221; demanded a deep and melodious voice. It was that
+of Aaron Burr who spoke now, half in query, half in challenge. &#8220;Would
+Spain fight&mdash;and would Great Britain, if need were and the time came?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He spoke to men heated with wine, smarting under social indignity, men
+owning a hurt personal vanity.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Our past is proof enough,&#8221; 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>&#8220;Divide and conquer?&#8221; 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&#8217;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&mdash;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&mdash;at that moment, let us say, the Burr conspiracy began.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Divide that unknown country, the West, and how long would this
+republic endure?&#8221; 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>&#8220;What?&#8221; demanded Aaron Burr once more. &#8220;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, Se&ntilde;or 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&#8217;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Merry turned upon Burr suddenly a deep and estimating eye.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I begin to see,&#8221; said he, &#8220;that you are open to conviction, Mr.
+Burr.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not open to conviction,&#8221; said Aaron Burr, &#8220;but already convinced!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What do you mean, Colonel Burr?&#8221; The Englishman bent toward him,
+frowning in intentness.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Where, then, could we meet after this is over?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The minister from Great Britain surely was not beyond close and ready
+estimate of events.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;At my residence, after this dinner,&#8221; rejoined Aaron Burr instantly.
+His eye did not waver as it looked into the other&#8217;s, but blazed with
+all the fire of his own soul. &#8220;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?&#8221;</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&mdash;perhaps this was his own revenge for a
+reception he once had had at London. But at last he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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.&#8221;</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>&#8220;May God in His own power punish me,&#8221; said he, solemnly, &#8220;if ever I
+halt or falter in what I believe to be my duty! I place no bounds to
+the future of this republic&mdash;based, as I firmly believe it to be, upon
+the enduring principle of the just and even rights of mankind.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;that is to say, in 1783&mdash;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>&#8220;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>&#8220;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&mdash;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&mdash;indeed, to the
+west of the Mississippi itself&mdash;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.&#8221;</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>&#8220;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,&#8221; went on Thomas Jefferson. &#8220;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.&#8221;</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>&#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>With wonder, doubt, and, indeed, a certain perturbation at the
+President&#8217;s unexpected summons, the young Virginian rose to his feet
+and stood gazing questioningly at his chief.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know your modesty as well as your courage, Captain Lewis,&#8221; smiled
+Mr. Jefferson. &#8220;You may be seated, sir, since now we all know you.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;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&mdash;the most cherished enterprise of my administration&mdash;to him
+whom now you have seen here before you.&#8221;</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>&#8220;And now for my news,&#8221; he said at length. &#8220;Here you have it!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He waved once more the little scrap of paper.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;the
+dove of peace, I trust. Let me explain briefly; what my news concerns.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;As you know, that new country yonder belonged at first to any one who
+might find it&mdash;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&mdash;indeed, virgin territory so far as
+definite title was concerned.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;supposing that she owned them&mdash;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&mdash;until but
+now.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;the empire of humanity&mdash;a land in which democracy,
+humanity, shall expand and grow forever! This is my news:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>&#8220;General Bonaparte signed May 2&mdash;Fifteen millions&mdash;Rejoice!&#8221;</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&mdash;many&mdash;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&#8217;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>&#8220;I have given you my news,&#8221; the voice of Mr. Jefferson went on, rising
+now, vibrant and masterful, fearless, compelling. &#8220;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>&#8220;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&mdash;triumph and flourish while governments shall remain
+known among men.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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>&#8220;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&mdash;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&mdash;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>&#8220;My heart&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;the country of my dream and his. It is
+no longer the country of any other power&mdash;it is our own!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Gentlemen, I give you a toast&mdash;Captain Meriwether Lewis!&#8221;</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&#8217;s
+withdrawal, the crowd&mdash;it could be called little else&mdash;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>&#8220;Do you forget your friends so soon? I must add my good wishes. It was
+splendid, what Mr. Jefferson said&mdash;and it was true!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I wish it might be true,&#8221; said the young man. &#8220;I wish I might be
+worthy of such a man.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are worthy of us all,&#8221; returned Theodosia.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;People are kind to the condemned,&#8221; 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>&#8220;My dear,&#8221; said Mr. Merry to his irate spouse, &#8220;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.&#8221;</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>&#8220;You say right, gentlemen, both of you,&#8221; he began, leaning forward. &#8220;I
+would not blame you if you never went to the White House again.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Should I ever do so again,&#8221; blazed the Spanish minister, &#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;As much myself, sir!&#8221; said Mr. Merry, his brows contracted, his face
+flushed still with anger. &#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So much for the rule of the plain people!&#8221; said Burr, as he laid the
+tips of his fingers together contemplatively.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yet, Colonel Burr, you are Vice-President under this administration!&#8221;
+broke out Merry.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;Louisiana&mdash;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&mdash;in spite of what all
+these people say.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sir,&#8221; said the British minister, &#8220;you have been a student of
+affairs.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;<i>but not under the flag of this republic!</i>&#8221;</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&#8217;s
+colleague, Vice-President of the United States.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You cannot force geography,&#8221; resumed Burr, in tones as even as if he
+had but spoken of bartering for a house and lot. &#8220;Lower Louisiana and
+Mexico together&mdash;yes, perhaps. Florida, with us&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You will explain more fully, Colonel Burr?&#8221; Mr. Merry was intent now
+on all that he heard.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I march only with destiny, yonder&mdash;do you not see, gentlemen?&#8221; Burr
+resumed. &#8220;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&#8217;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&mdash;owning the lands in Canada on the north&mdash;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.&#8221;</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>&#8220;I know what is in your minds, gentlemen. The one thing which troubles
+you is this&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What you say, Mr. Burr,&#8221; began Merry gravely, &#8220;assuredly has the
+merit of audacity. And I see that you have given it thought.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;let me tell you that. I know my men from
+St. Louis to New Orleans&mdash;I know my leaders&mdash;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?&#8221;</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>&#8220;My son-in-law, Mr. Alston, of South Carolina&mdash;a very wealthy planter
+of that State&mdash;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&#8217;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So, then,&#8221; began Yrujo, &#8220;the financing is somewhat forward! But fifty
+thousand is only a drop.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We may as well be plain,&#8221; rejoined Burr. &#8220;Time is short&mdash;you know
+that it is short. We all heard what Mr. Jefferson said&mdash;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&mdash;and who can
+say what that young Virginian may do?&mdash;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&mdash;and yours.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Your funds,&#8221; said Mr. Merry, &#8220;seem to me inadequate for the demands
+which will be made upon them. You said fifty thousand?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p><p>Burr nodded.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I pledge you as much more&mdash;on one condition that I shall name.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Burr turned from Mr. Merry to Se&ntilde;or Yrujo. The latter nodded.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I undertake to contribute the same amount,&#8221; said the envoy of Spain,
+&#8220;but with no condition attached.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The color deepened in the cheek of the great conspirator. His eye
+glittered a trifle more brilliantly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You named a certain condition, sir,&#8221; he said to Merry.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, one entirely obvious.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What is it, then, your excellency?&#8221; Burr inquired.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You yourself have made it plain. The infernal ingenuity of yonder
+Corsican&mdash;curse his devilish brain!&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;as
+Mr. Jefferson plans so boldly&mdash;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&mdash;he knows how to sacrifice a pawn in order to checkmate a
+king!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Yes, your excellency,&#8221; said Burr, &#8220;I agree with you, but&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And now my condition. Follow me closely. I say if that wedge is
+driven home&mdash;if that expedition of Mr. Jefferson&#8217;s shall succeed&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Burr nodded, his lips compressed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;and there will be no chance left for Colonel Burr and his
+friends!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All that your excellency has said tallies entirely with our own
+beliefs,&#8221; rejoined Burr. &#8220;But what then? What is the condition?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Simply this&mdash;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&mdash;too late for
+us&mdash;too late for you and your plan, Mr. Burr. I want that man! We must
+have him with us!&#8221;</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>&#8220;You open up a singular train of thought for me, your excellency,&#8221;
+said he at length. &#8220;He does belong with us, that young Virginian!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You know him, then?&#8221; inquired the British minister. &#8220;That is to say,
+you know him well?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Perfectly. Why should I not? He nearly was my son-in-law. Egad! Give
+him two weeks more, and he might have been&mdash;he got the news of my
+daughter&#8217;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How, then?&#8221; inquired Merry.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The way of a woman with a man may always be the answer in matters of
+that sort!&#8221; said Aaron Burr.</p>
+
+<p>The three sat and looked each at the other for some time without
+comment.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I find Colonel Burr&#8217;s brain active in all ways!&#8221; began Se&ntilde;or Yrujo
+dryly. &#8220;Now I confess that he goes somewhat in advance of mine.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Listen,&#8221; said Aaron Burr. &#8220;What Mr. Jefferson said of Captain Lewis
+is absolutely true&mdash;his will has never been known to relax or weaken.
+Once resolved, he cannot change&mdash;I will not say he does not, but that
+he cannot.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then even the unusual weapon you suggest might not avail!&#8221; Mr.
+Merry&#8217;s smile was not altogether pleasant.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Women would listen to him readily, I think,&#8221; remarked Yrujo.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Gallant in his way, yes,&#8221; said Burr.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then what do you mean by saying something about the way of a woman
+with a man?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Only that it is the last remaining opportunity for us,&#8221; rejoined
+Aaron Burr. &#8220;The appeal to his senses&mdash;of course, we will set that
+aside. The appeal to his chivalry&mdash;that is better! The appeal to his
+ambition&mdash;that is less, but might be used. The appeal to his
+sympathy&mdash;the wish to be generous with the woman who has not been
+generous with him, for the reason that she could not be&mdash;here again
+you have another argument which we may claim as possible.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You reason well,&#8221; said Merry. &#8220;But while men are mortal, yonder, if I
+mistake not, is a gentleman.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Precisely,&#8221; said Burr. &#8220;If we ask him to resign his expedition we are
+asking him to alter all his loyalty to his chief&mdash;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&#8217;s husband&mdash;in case it came to that&mdash;than he
+would be disloyal to the orders of his chief.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Fie! Fie!&#8221; said Yrujo, serving himself with wine from a decanter on
+the table. &#8220;All men are mortal. I agree with your first proposition,
+Colonel Burr, that the safest argument with a man&mdash;with a young man
+especially, and such a young man&mdash;is a woman&mdash;and such a woman!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;One thing is sure,&#8221; rejoined Burr, flushing. &#8220;That man will succeed
+unless some woman induces him to change&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Burr added this last virtuously, and Mr. Merry bowed deeply in return.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This is not only honorable of you, Colonel Burr, but logical.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That means some sort of sacrifice for him,&#8221; suggested Yrujo
+presently. &#8220;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We have left out of our accounting one factor,&#8221; said Burr after a
+time.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What, then?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;One factor, I repeat, we have overlooked,&#8221; said Burr. &#8220;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&mdash;nor any soul more filled with ambition!
+She believes in her father absolutely&mdash;will use every resource of her
+own to upbuild her father&#8217;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: &#8216;My daughter, your father&#8217;s
+success, his life, his fortune&mdash;the life and fortune and success of
+your husband as well&mdash;depend upon one event, depend upon you and your
+ability to stop yonder expedition of Captain Meriwether Lewis into the
+Missouri country!&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;When could we learn?&#8221; demanded the British minister.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I cannot say how long a time it may take,&#8221; Burr replied. &#8220;I promise
+you that my daughter shall have a personal interview with Captain
+Lewis before he starts for the West.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But he starts at dawn!&#8221; smiled Minister Merry.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The British minister was businesslike and definite.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;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&mdash;a half-million more when needed.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The dark eye of Aaron Burr flashed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then,&#8221; said he firmly, &#8220;success will meet our efforts&mdash;I guarantee
+it! I pledge all my personal fortune, my friends, my family, to the
+last member.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am for my country,&#8221; said Mr. Merry simply. &#8220;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&mdash;if at the very start we can divide
+the forces which might later be allied against us&mdash;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;You understand my plan,&#8221; said Aaron Burr. &#8220;Reduced to the least
+common denominator, Meriwether Lewis and my daughter Theodosia have
+our fate in their hands.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The others rose. The hour was past midnight. The secret conference had
+been a long one.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He starts tomorrow&mdash;is that sure?&#8221; asked Merry.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;As the clock,&#8221; rejoined Burr. &#8220;She must see him before the breakfast
+hour.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My compliments, Colonel Burr. Good night!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good night, sir,&#8221; added Yrujo. &#8220;It has been a strange day.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Secrecy, gentlemen, secrecy! I hope soon to have more news for you,
+and good news, too. <i>Au revoir!</i>&#8221;</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>&#8220;Go at once to Mrs. Alston&#8217;s rooms, Charles,&#8221; said he to the servant.
+&#8220;Tell her to rise and come to me at once. Tell her not to wait. Do you
+hear?&#8221;</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>&#8220;What is it, father&mdash;are you ill?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Far from it, my child,&#8221; said he, turning with head erect. &#8220;I am
+alive, well, and happier than I have been for months&mdash;years. I need
+you&mdash;come, sit here and listen to me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He caught her to him with a swift, paternal embrace&mdash;he loved no
+mortal being as he did his daughter&mdash;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&mdash;except the
+truth. And Aaron Burr knew how to gild falsehood itself until it
+seemed the truth.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now you have it, my dear,&#8221; said he. &#8220;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&mdash;I am lawyer
+enough to know that&mdash;which will make it possible for Congress to
+ratify the purchase of Louisiana. We cannot carve new States from that
+country&mdash;it is already settled by the subjects of another government.
+Hence the expedition of Mr. Lewis must fail&mdash;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>&#8220;But as to the Mississippi Valley, matters are entirely different.
+There is no law against that country&#8217;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&mdash;men like Captain Lewis, for instance. Should one
+ally one&#8217;s self with a foredoomed failure? Not at all. I prefer rather
+success&mdash;station, rank, power, money, for myself, if you please. With
+us&mdash;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&mdash;for the undertaking of yonder impracticable and chimerical
+expedition, twenty-five hundred dollars! Which enterprise, think you,
+will win?</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But, on the other hand, if that expedition of Mr. Jefferson&#8217;s should
+succeed by virtue of accident, or of good leadership, all my plans
+must fail&mdash;that is plain. It comes, therefore, to this, Theo, and I
+may tell you plainly&mdash;Captain Lewis must be seen&mdash;he must be
+stopped&mdash;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&#8217;s future&mdash;and that one, my daughter, is&mdash;you!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He caught Theodosia&#8217;s look of surprise, her start, the swift flush on
+her cheek&mdash;and laughed lightly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Let me explain. Aaron Burr and all his family&mdash;all his friends&mdash;will
+reach swift advancement in yonder new government. Power, place&mdash;these
+are the things that strong men covet. That is what the game of
+politics means for strong men&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It seems that you value him more now than once you did.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;I admit it frankly&mdash;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&mdash;Mr. Jefferson sees it&mdash;he is a good chooser of
+men. But Captain Lewis must not advance beyond the Ohio. That is a
+large task for a woman.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What woman, father?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A flush came to her pale cheek. Her father turned to her directly, his
+own piercing gaze aflame.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There is but one woman on earth could do that, my daughter! That
+young man&#8217;s fate was settled when he looked on that woman&mdash;when he
+looked on you!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She swiftly turned her head aside, not answering.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Am I so engaged in affairs that I cannot see the obvious, my dear?&#8221;
+went on the vibrant voice. &#8220;Had I no eyes for what went on at my side
+this very evening, at Mr. Jefferson&#8217;s dinner-table? Could I fail to
+observe his look to you&mdash;and, yes, am I not sensible to what your eyes
+said to him in reply?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do you believe that of me&mdash;and you my father?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I believe nothing dishonorable of you, my dear,&#8221; said Burr. &#8220;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&mdash;know you wish well for his ambition, his success&mdash;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;There would be prospects for him?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&#8217;s money, but Lewis&#8217;s brains and courage! They both love
+you&mdash;do I not know?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Troubled, again she turned her gaze aside.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Listen, my daughter. That young man is wise&mdash;he has no such vast
+belief in yonder expedition. He is going in desperation, to escape a
+memory! Is it not true? Tell me&mdash;and believe that I am not blind&mdash;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Still her downcast eye gave him no reply.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;we fight with the stars in their courses, and not against them.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now, you have two pictures, my dear&mdash;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&mdash;condemned to that by yourself, my dear&mdash;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&mdash;he might forgive. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span>Yonder he will
+forsake his manhood&mdash;he will relax his ideals, and go down, step by
+step, until he shall not think of you again.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There are two pictures, my daughter. Which do you prefer&mdash;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&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Could it be possible,&#8221; she began at length, half musing, &#8220;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&mdash;and
+from myself?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What can I do, father?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You have called me for a strange errand, father,&#8221; said Theodosia
+Alston, at length. &#8220;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&mdash;you are its sworn servant, its high official.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Treachery? No, it is statesmanship, it is service to mankind!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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.&#8221;</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>&#8220;Theodosia,&#8221; said he, &#8220;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,&#8221; he added, passing a hand across
+his forehead.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There will be no more sleep for me tonight,&#8221; was her reply.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You will see him in the morning?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</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&mdash;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>&#8220;Yonder it lies, Captain Lewis!&#8221; said Mr. Jefferson at length. &#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The President tapped a long forefinger on the map.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This, then,&#8221; he went on, &#8220;is your country. Find it out&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Meriwether Lewis listened in silence. Mr. Jefferson turned to another
+branch of his theme.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I fancy that some time there will be a canal built across the isthmus
+that binds this continent to the one below&mdash;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&mdash;discover it&mdash;it is our new world.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A few must think for the many,&#8221; he went on. &#8220;I had to smuggle this
+appropriation through Congress&mdash;twenty-five hundred dollars&mdash;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&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Indeed, the sun was rising over Washington, the mists of morning were
+reeking along the banks of the Potomac.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can start in half an hour,&#8221; replied Meriwether Lewis.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Are your men ready, your supplies gathered together?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The rendezvous is at Harper&#8217;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Spoken like a soldier! It is in your hands. Go then!&#8221;</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&mdash;for always Meriwether
+Lewis was immaculate&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;the &#8220;possible sack&#8221; <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&mdash;to his mother&mdash;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&#8217;s weapon
+on his arm&mdash;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&mdash;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>&#8220;Mrs. Alston!&#8221; he exclaimed, as the carriage came up. &#8220;Why are you
+here? Is there any news?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, else I could not have come.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But why have you come? Tell me!&#8221;</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>&#8220;Pardon me,&#8221; said he, and his voice was cold; &#8220;I thought I had cut all
+ties.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Knit them again for my sake, then, Meriwether Lewis! I have brought
+you a summons to return.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A summons? From whom?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My father&mdash;Mr. Merry&mdash;Se&ntilde;or Yrujo. They were at our home all night.
+We could not&mdash;they could not&mdash;I could not&mdash;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&#8217;s pride drive you!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She was excited, half sobbing.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It does drive me, indeed,&#8221; said he simply. &#8220;I am under orders&mdash;I am
+the leader of this expedition of my government. I do not
+understand&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;At this hour&mdash;on this errand&mdash;only one motive could have brought me!
+It is your interest. Oh, it is not for myself&mdash;it is for your future.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why did you come thus, unattended? There is something you are
+concealing. Tell me!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ah, you are harsh&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You speak well! Go on.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;England is with us, and Spain&mdash;they back my father&#8217;s plans.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He turned now and raised a hand.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Plans? What plans? I must warn you, I am pledged to my own country&#8217;s
+service.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Is not my father also? He is one of the highest officers in the
+government of this country.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You may tell me more or not, as you like.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There is little more to tell,&#8221; said she. &#8220;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&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He sat motionless, looking straight ahead, as she went on.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;that they would give you splendid opportunity. With men
+such as these, that means a swift future of success for one&mdash;for
+one&mdash;whom I shall always cherish warmly in my heart.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The color was full in her face. He turned toward her suddenly, his eye
+clouded.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is an extraordinary matter in every way which you bring for me,&#8221;
+he said slowly; &#8220;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;oh, what shall I
+say?&mdash;which I have always felt for you&mdash;the regard&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Regard! What do you mean?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I did not mean regard, but the&mdash;the wish to see you succeed, to help
+you, if I could, to take your place among men. I told you that but
+yesterday.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She was all confusion now. He seemed pitiless.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have listened long enough to have my curiosity aroused. I shall
+have somewhat to ponder&mdash;on the trail to the West.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then you mean that you will go on?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You do not understand&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;what is your
+country? You have no heart&mdash;that I know well; but I credited you with
+the brain and the ambition of a man!&#8221;</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>&#8220;Think you that I would have come here for any other man?&#8221; she
+demanded. &#8220;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&mdash;even for me!&#8221;</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>&#8220;Theodosia,&#8221; said he, &#8220;it is hard for me not to do anything you ask of
+me&mdash;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&mdash;my men are waiting for
+me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>This time he did not turn back again.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>Colonel Burr&#8217;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&#8217;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>&#8220;You have failed!&#8221; said he.</p>
+
+<p>She raised her dark eyes to his, herself silent, mournful.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What did he say?&#8221; demanded Burr.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Said he was under orders&mdash;said you should go to Mr. Jefferson with
+your plan&mdash;said Mr. Jefferson alone could stop him. Failed? Yes, I
+failed!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You failed,&#8221; said Burr, &#8220;because you did not use the right argument
+with him. The next time <i>you must not fail</i>. You must use better
+arguments!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Theodosia stood motionless for an instant, looking at her father, then
+passed back into the house.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Listen, my daughter,&#8221; said Burr at length, in his eye a light that
+she never had known before. &#8220;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&mdash;penniless upon the streets, do you hear?&mdash;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&mdash;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>&mdash;do you understand?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sir,&#8221; said his daughter, &#8220;I think&mdash;I think I do not understand!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He seemed not to hear her&mdash;or to toss her answer aside.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You must try again,&#8221; said he, &#8220;and with the right weapons&mdash;the old
+ones, my dear&mdash;the old weapons of a woman!&#8221;</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&#8217;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&#8217;s work. He was writing in a fine, delicate hand&mdash;legible to this
+day&mdash;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&mdash;even to the gratuities he expended
+in traveling and entertainment. We find, for instance, that &#8220;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.&#8221; 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&mdash;and he
+was wrong ten cents in his addition of the total! In his own hand he
+sets down &#8220;A View of the Consumption of Butchers&#8217; Meat from September
+6, 1801, to June 12, 1802.&#8221; 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&mdash;plantation</td>
+<td align="right">2,226.45</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">&#8220;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &mdash;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&mdash;lands bought</td>
+<td align="right">2,156.86</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">&#8220;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &mdash;buildings</span></td>
+<td align="right">3,567.92</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">&#8220;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &mdash;carriages</span></td>
+<td align="right">363.75</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">&#8220;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &mdash;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&#8217;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&mdash;begun soon after I came home
+to live from Philadelphia.</p>
+
+<p>Agreed with Robt. Chuning to serve me as overseer at
+Monticello for &pound;25 and 600 lb. pork. He is to come Dec. 1.</p>
+
+<p>Agreed with &mdash;&mdash; 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&mdash;The first shad at this market today.</p>
+
+<p>March 28&mdash;The weeping willow shows the green leaf.</p>
+
+<p>April 9&mdash;Asparagus come to table.</p>
+
+<p>April 10&mdash;Apricots blossom.</p>
+
+<p>April 12&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;8 lb. cost 1.6.</p>
+
+<p>May 18&mdash;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&#8217;s life records.</p>
+
+<p>Why should we care to note his curious concern over details? The
+answer to that question is this&mdash;obviously, Thomas Jefferson&#8217;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&#8217;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&mdash;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
+&#8220;a lady wantin&#8217; to see Mistah Jeffahson.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Who is she, Henry?&#8221; inquired the President of the United States
+mildly. &#8220;I am somewhat busy today.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;Tain&#8217;t no diff&#8217;rence, she say&mdash;she sho&#8217;ly want see Mistah
+Jeffahson.&#8221;</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&#8217;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>&#8220;My dear,&#8221; said he, &#8220;you will pardon our confusion here, I am sure.
+There are many matters&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know it is an intrusion, Mr. Jefferson,&#8221; began <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span>Theodosia Alston
+again, her face flushing swiftly. &#8220;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,&#8221; she added impulsively, as she caught sight of his
+haggard face.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I was not so fortunate as to find time for sleep last night.&#8221; He
+smiled again with humorous, half twisted mouth.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nor was I.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Tut, tut! No, no, my dear, that sort of thing will not do.&#8221; He looked
+at her in silence for some time. &#8220;Perhaps, my dear,&#8221; said he at last,
+&#8220;you come regarding Captain Lewis?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How did you know?&#8221; she exclaimed, startled.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why should I not know?&#8221; He pushed his chair so close that he might
+lay a hand upon her arm. &#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She was looking straight into his face, her eyes mournful.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I was glad to send him away, sorely as I miss him. But then, you
+said, you come to me about him?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, after he is gone&mdash;knowing all that you say&mdash;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&mdash;that is to say, we might have
+been&mdash;ah, sir, how can I speak?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You need not speak, my dear, I know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I shall be faithful to my husband, Mr. Jefferson.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The old man nodded.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;for any cause?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In turn she laid a small hand upon the President&#8217;s arm.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Only for himself&mdash;for that reason alone, Mr. Jefferson, and not to
+change your plans&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What is it, Theodosia?&#8221; he said quietly. &#8220;I do not grasp all this.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Able men say that this government cannot take advantage of the sale
+of Louisiana to us by Napoleon&mdash;that our Constitution prevents our
+taking over a foreign territory already populated to make into new
+States of our own&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good, my learned counsel&mdash;say on!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Forgive my weak wit&mdash;I only try to say this as I heard it, well and
+plainly.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;As well as any man, my dear! Go on.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And perhaps by certain of my own party not Federalists&mdash;by Colonel
+Aaron Burr, for instance!&#8221; Thomas Jefferson smiled grimly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes!&#8221; She spoke firmly and with courage.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I saw him this very morning&mdash;I took my reputation in my hands&mdash;I
+followed him&mdash;I urged him, I implored him to stop!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes? And did he?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She did not reply. After a time the President went on gently:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My dear, would you wish him to come back&mdash;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She drew up proudly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What benefit, indeed, to me? Do you think I would ask this for
+myself? No, it was for <i>him</i>&mdash;it was for <i>his</i> welfare only that I
+dared to come to you. And you will not hear new evidence?&#8221;</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>&#8220;Madam,&#8221; said he, coldly, &#8220;in this office we do a thing but once. Had
+I condemned yonder young man to his death&mdash;and perhaps I have&mdash;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&mdash;yes, and grieve over you
+both; but what is written is written.&#8221;</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>&#8220;You would not hear what was the actual cause of my wish for him&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, my dear! We have made our plans.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There are other plans afoot these days, Mr. Jefferson.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;nay,
+no reward to any other human being&mdash;shall stop his advancement in that
+purpose which he shares with me. If he fails, I fail with him&mdash;and all
+my life as well!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She rose now, calm before the imperious quality of his nature, so
+unlike his former gentleness.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You refuse, then, Mr. Jefferson? You will not reopen this case?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I refuse nothing to you gladly, my dear lady. But you have seen
+him&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly he saw the tears in her eyes. At once he was back again, the
+courteous gentleman.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do not weep, Theodosia, my child,&#8221; said he. &#8220;Let me kiss you, as your
+father or your grandfather would&mdash;one who holds you tenderly in his
+heart. Forgive me that I pass sentence on you both, but you must
+part&mdash;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&mdash;and let us all go on
+about our duties in the world. My dear, good-by! You must go.&#8221;</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&#8217;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&#8217;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&mdash;had Napoleon
+ever done otherwise than to cede Louisiana to us&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;good news, fortunate news, joyous news&mdash;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&#8217;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&#8217;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, &amp; I send this by special bote up the
+river to mete you at Pts&#8217;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&mdash;I accept not because of the Rank, which is no moving
+consideration, eather for you or for me&mdash;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&#8217;n, I remain,</p>
+
+<p class="left1">Your friend,</p>
+
+<p class="left3"><span class="smcap">Wm. Clark.</span></p>
+
+<p>P. S.&mdash;God alone knows how mutch this all may mean to You
+and me, Merne&mdash;<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>&#8220;What is it, my son?&#8221; said he. &#8220;Did you wish to see me?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The boy advanced, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You do not know me, sir. My name is Shannon&mdash;George Shannon. I used
+to know you when you were stationed here with the army. I was a boy
+then.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are right&mdash;I remember you perfectly. So you are grown into a
+strapping young man, I see!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The boy twirled his cap in his hands.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I want to go along with you, Captain,&#8221; said he shyly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What? You would go with me&mdash;do you know what is our journey?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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. &#8217;Tis
+too quiet here for me&mdash;I want to see the world with you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The young leader, after his fashion, stood silently regarding the
+other for a time. An instant served him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Very well, George,&#8221; said he. &#8220;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.&#8221;</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>&#8220;What, is it, George?&#8221; he asked at length, looking up.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Someone waiting to see you, sir&mdash;they are in the parlor. They sent
+me&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;They? Who are they?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know, sir. She asked me to come for you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She. Who is she?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know, sir. She spoke to her father. They are in the room just
+across the hall, sir.&#8221;</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&mdash;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>&#8220;Why are you here?&#8221; he asked at length.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My father and I are on a journey down the river to visit Mr.
+Blennerhasset on his island. You know his castle there?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why is it that you always come to torment me the more? Another day
+and I should have been gone!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Torment you, sir?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You rebuke me properly. I presume I should have courage to meet you
+always&mdash;to speak with you&mdash;to look into your eyes&mdash;to take your hands
+in mine. But I find it hard, terribly hard! Each time it is
+worse&mdash;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She made no reply. He fought for his self-control.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Jefferson, how is he?&#8221; he demanded at length. &#8220;You left him
+well?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Unchangeable as flint. You said that only the order of your chief
+could change your plans. I sought to gain that order&mdash;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&#8217;s command. You find
+it hard! Do you think this is not hard for me also?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;to try to forget what I
+hold most dear!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You shall not leave my face behind you, Captain Lewis!&#8221; she said
+suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What do you mean, Theodosia? What is it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You shall see me every night under the stars, Meriwether Lewis. I
+will not let you go. I will not relinquish you!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He turned swiftly toward her, but paused as if caught back by some
+mighty hand.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What is it?&#8221; he said once more, half in a whisper. &#8220;What do you mean?
+Would you ruin me? Would you see me go to ruin?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;you have awakened some
+feeling of what images a woman may make in a man&#8217;s heart. I have been
+no more to you than any woman is to any man&mdash;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Can you fancy what all this means to me?&#8221; he broke out hoarsely.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I can fancy. And what for me? So much my feeling for you has
+been&mdash;oh, call it what you like&mdash;admiration, affection, maternal
+tenderness&mdash;I do not know what&mdash;but so much have I wished, so much
+have I planned for your future in return for what you have given
+me&mdash;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&mdash;what do you think that costs
+me?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;And yet you upbraid me when I say I cannot give you up to any fate
+but that of happiness and success&mdash;oh, not with me, for that is beyond
+us two&mdash;it is past forever. But happiness&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There are some words that burn deep,&#8221; he said slowly. &#8220;I know that I
+was not made for happiness.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Does a woman&#8217;s wish mean nothing to you? Have I no appeal for you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Something like a sob was torn from his bosom.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You can speak thus with me?&#8221; he said huskily. &#8220;If you cannot leave me
+happiness, can you not at least leave me partial peace of mind?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She stood slightly swaying, silent.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;let me go yonder into the
+wilderness, where I may be a gentleman!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He saw her movement as she turned, heard her sigh.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sometimes,&#8221; she said, &#8220;I have thought it worth a woman&#8217;s life thrown
+away that a strong man may succeed. Failure and sacrifice a woman may
+offer&mdash;not much more. But it is as my father told me!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He told you what?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That only chivalry would ever make you forget your duty&mdash;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!&#8221;</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;">&#8220;</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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It was midnight. For more than an hour Meriwether Lewis had sat, his
+head drooped, in silence.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We are going to start?&#8221; Shannon&#8217;s face lightened eagerly. &#8220;We&#8217;ll be
+off at sunup?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Before that. Get the men&mdash;we&#8217;ll start now! I&#8217;ll meet you at the
+wharf.&#8221;</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>&#8220;All&#8217;s aboard, sir,&#8221; said he. &#8220;Shall we cast off?&#8221;</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>&#8220;Hello, there!&#8221; called a voice through the darkness, after a time.
+&#8220;Who goes there?&#8221;</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>&#8220;Ahoy there, the boat!&#8221; insisted the same voice.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;I can lick the best of yez in three minutes, or me name&#8217;s not
+Patrick Gass!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The captain of the boat turned slowly in his seat, casting a glance
+over his silent crew.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Set in!&#8221; 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&mdash;as he was by all of his men&mdash;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>&#8220;Who hailed us?&#8221; demanded the latter shortly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Begorrah, &#8217;twas me,&#8221; 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>&#8220;&#8217;Twas me hailed yez, and what of it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That is what I came ashore to learn,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis. &#8220;We are
+about our business. What concern is that of yours? I am here to
+learn.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yez can learn, if ye&#8217;re so anxious,&#8221; replied the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>other. &#8220;&#8217;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,
+&#8217;tis no fighting man ye are, an&#8217; I&#8217;ll say that to your face!&#8221;</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&mdash;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&mdash;the
+swift act of their leader, without threat, without warning&mdash;the
+instant readiness of the others to back their leader&#8217;s
+initiative&mdash;caught every one of these rude fighting men in the sudden
+grip of surprise. They hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am no fighting man,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis, turning to them; &#8220;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?&#8221;</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>&mdash;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>&#8220;An officer, did ye say?&#8221; said he. &#8220;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&#8217;re an officer and a gintleman,
+whoever ye be. I&#8217;d like to shake hands with ye!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am not shaking hands with ruffians who insult travelers,&#8221; 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. &#8220;There, man,&#8221; said he, &#8220;since you
+seem to mean well!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He shook hands with his opponent, who, stung by the rebuke, now began
+to sniffle.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sor,&#8221; said he, &#8220;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&#8217;t give to me parents I&#8217;ve
+spint like a man. I have had me fling for awhile, and I&#8217;m goin&#8217; 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&mdash;&#8217;twas only the whisky made me feel sportin&#8217; like at the time,
+do ye mind?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Gass, Patrick Gass, you said?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yis, sor, of the Tinth. Barrin&#8217; me love for fightin&#8217; I am a good
+soldier. There are stripes on me sleeves be rights, but me old coat&#8217;s
+hangin&#8217; in the barracks down below.&#8221;</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>&#8220;You say the Tenth?&#8221; said he briefly. &#8220;You have been with the colors?
+Look here, my man, do you want to serve?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;I am going right back to Kaskasky for it, sor.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why not enlist with us? I need men. We are off for the West, up the
+Missouri&mdash;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I could not say, sor. I would have to ask leave at Kaskasky. I gave
+me word I&#8217;d come back after I&#8217;d had me fling here in the East, ye
+see.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll take care of that. I have full authority to recruit among
+enlisted men.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Excuse me, sor, ye are sayin&#8217; ye are goin&#8217; up the Missouri? Then I
+know yez&mdash;yez are the Captain Lewis that has been buildin&#8217; the big
+boat the last two months up at the yards&mdash;Captain Lewis from
+Washington.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, and from the Ohio country before then&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll need not the half of two!&#8221; rejoined Patrick Gass promptly. &#8220;Give
+me leave of my captain, and I am with yez! There is nothin&#8217; in the
+world I&#8217;d liever see than the great plains and the buffalo. &#8217;Tis fond
+of travel I am, and I&#8217;d like to see the ind of the world before I
+die.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You will come as near seeing the end of it with us as anywhere else I
+know,&#8221; rejoined Lewis quietly. &#8220;Get your war-bag and come aboard.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In this curious fashion Patrick Gass of the army&mdash;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&mdash;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&#8217;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>&#8220;I have nothing to complain of,&#8221; said Patrick Gass, addressing his new
+friends impartially, as he shifted his belongings to suit him and took
+his place at a rowing seat. &#8220;I have nothing to complain of. I&#8217;ve been
+sayin&#8217; I would like to have one more rale fight before I enlisted&mdash;the
+army is too tame for a fellow of rale spirit. None o&#8217; thim at the camp
+yonder, where I was two days, would take it on with me after the first
+day. I was fair longin&#8217; for something to interest me&mdash;and be jabers, I
+found it! Now I am continted to ind me vacation and come back to the
+monothony of business life.&#8221;</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&mdash;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&mdash;even that rare muscle over the hip beloved of the ancients,
+but now forgotten of sculptors, because rarely seen on a man today&mdash;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>&#8220;George,&#8221; said he to young Shannon, &#8220;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. &#8217;Tis wonder he didn&#8217;t
+kill me&mdash;in which case I&#8217;d niver have had me job. The Lord loves us
+Irish, anny way you fix it!&#8221;</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;">&#8220;</p><p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">W</span>ill!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Merne!&#8221;</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&mdash;what
+wonder so many have called the story of these two more romantic than
+romance itself?</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It has been long since we met, Will,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis. &#8220;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&mdash;but I don&#8217;t need to try.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And you, Merne,&#8221; rejoined William Clark&mdash;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&mdash;&#8220;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&#8217;s right-hand man&mdash;we hear of you
+often across the mountains. I have been waiting for you here, as
+anxious as yourself.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The water is low,&#8221; complained Lewis, &#8220;and a thousand things have
+delayed us. Are you ready to start?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;In ten minutes&mdash;in five minutes. I will have my boy York go up and
+get my rifle and my bags.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Your brother, General Clark, how is he?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>William Clark shrugged with a smile which had half as much sorrow as
+mirth in it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The truth is, Merne, the general&#8217;s heart is broken. He thinks that
+his country has forgotten him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Forgotten him? From Detroit to New Orleans&mdash;we owe it all to George
+Rogers Clark. It was he who opened the river from Pittsburgh to New
+Orleans. He&#8217;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Merne, I&#8217;ve sold my farm. I got ten thousand dollars for my
+place&mdash;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. &#8217;Tis the gladdest time
+in all my life!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We are share and share alike, Will,&#8221; said his friend Lewis, soberly.
+&#8220;Tell me, can we get beyond the Mississippi this fall, do you think?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Doubtful,&#8221; said Clark. &#8220;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&#8217;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He did not note the sudden flush on his friend&#8217;s face&mdash;indeed, gave
+him no time to answer, but went on, absorbed in his own executive
+details.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What sort of men have you in your party, Merne?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Only good ones, I think. Young Shannon and an army sergeant by the
+name of Gass, Patrick Gass&mdash;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&mdash;I got those around Carlisle. We
+need more men.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have picked out a few here,&#8221; said Clark. &#8220;You know Kentucky breeds
+explorers. I have a good blacksmith, Shields, and Bill Bratton is
+another blacksmith&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;a negro is always
+good-natured under hardship, and a laugh now and then will not hurt
+any of us.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Lewis nodded assent.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nothing shall stop us, Merne, and we cannot start too soon. I want to
+see fresh grass every night for a year. But you&mdash;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? &#8217;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&mdash;or never come back at all, for all we know. Have a care,
+man&mdash;pretty girls do not wait!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>As he spoke, so strange a look passed over his friend&#8217;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>&#8220;What is it, Merne? Pardon me! Did she&mdash;not wait?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>His companion looked at him gravely.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;for him&mdash;for both.&#8221;</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>&#8220;Well, in my own case,&#8221; said he at length, &#8220;I have no ties to cut.
+&#8217;Tis as well&mdash;we shall have no faces of women to trouble us on our
+trails out yonder. They don&#8217;t belong there, Merne&mdash;the ways of the
+trappers are best. But we must not talk too much of this,&#8221; he added.
+&#8220;I&#8217;ll see you yet well settled down as a Virginia squire&mdash;your white
+hair hanging down on your shoulders and a score of grandchildren about
+your knees to hamper you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>William Clark meant well&mdash;his friend knew that; so now he smiled, or
+tried to smile.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Merne,&#8221; the red-headed one went on, throwing an arm across his
+friend&#8217;s shoulders, &#8220;pass over this affair&mdash;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&mdash;we still may do so. And look at the adventures
+before us!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are a boy, Will,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis, actually smiling now,
+&#8220;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&mdash;I was born old. But now,&#8221; he added sharply, as he rose, &#8220;a
+pleasant journey to us both&mdash;and the longer the better!&#8221;</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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;they scarcely were more than boys&mdash;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&mdash;which, by right or not, he had ruled so
+long&mdash;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&mdash;but this was a different matter. Here was a flotilla under a
+third flag&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;Great Britain must
+fall back to the North&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;the fur trade had been
+split in half. Great Britain had lost&mdash;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&mdash;had hoped for the fleet of France. They got a
+fleet of Americans in flatboats&mdash;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&mdash;an army of twenty-nine men, backed by twenty-five
+hundred dollars of a nation&#8217;s hoarded war gold!</p>
+
+<p>It was a time for hope or for despair&mdash;a time for success or
+failure&mdash;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&#8217;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&mdash;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&mdash;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>&#8220;Sir,&#8221; said he, addressing the commander, &#8220;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!&#8221;</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&mdash;the flag of the United States. It was supported by one company
+of regulars and by the little army of joint command&mdash;the army of Lewis
+and Clark&mdash;twenty-nine enlisted men in leather!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Time now, at last!&#8221; said William Clark to his friend. &#8220;Time for us to
+say farewell! Boats&mdash;three of them&mdash;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?&#8221; he added. &#8220;I&#8217;ve not been across there for two
+weeks.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;News enough,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis gravely. &#8220;I just have word of the
+arrival in town of none other than Colonel Aaron Burr.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No. I wish he were alone. Will, she is with him&mdash;his daughter, Mrs.
+Alston!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, what of that? Oh, I know&mdash;I know, but why should you meet?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;I also am a guest there. Will, what
+shall I do? It torments me!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, tut, tut!&#8221; said light-hearted William Clark. &#8220;What shall you do?
+Why, in the first place, pull the frown from your face, Merne. Now,
+this young lady forsakes her husband, travels&mdash;with her father, to be
+sure, but none the less she travels&mdash;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&mdash;don&#8217;t rebuke
+me, Merne! I am full of the joy of life. Woman&mdash;the nearest woman&mdash;to
+call her a torment! And you a soldier! I don&#8217;t blame them. Torment
+you? Yes, they will, so long as you allow it. Then don&#8217;t allow it!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You preach very well, Will. Of course, I know you don&#8217;t practise what
+you preach&mdash;who does?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, perhaps! But, seriously, why take life so hard, Merne? Why
+don&#8217;t you relax&mdash;why don&#8217;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&mdash;tell me, Merne, what woman does
+a man marry? Doesn&#8217;t he marry the one at hand&mdash;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&mdash;and does not.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Lewis did not answer his friend&#8217;s jesting argument.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Listen, Merne,&#8221; Clark went on. &#8220;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&mdash;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&mdash;the great thirst of a man for power, for
+deeds, for danger, for adventure, for accomplishment&mdash;ah, that is
+ours, and that is harder to slake, I am thinking! A man&#8217;s deeds are
+his life. They tell the tale.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;His deeds! Yes, you are right, they do, indeed, tell the tale. Let us
+hope the reckoning will stand clean at last.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Merne, you are a soldier, not a preacher.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Will, you are neither&mdash;you are only a boy!&#8221;</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&#8217;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&#8217;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 &#8220;a jentle brease&#8221; 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>&#8220;You are ill, Theodosia!&#8221; he exclaimed at last &#8220;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&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He needed not to complete the sentence. Theodosia Alston knew well
+enough what was in her father&#8217;s mind&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;although
+with dread in his own heart&mdash;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&mdash;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>&#8220;I ask your pardon, Colonel Burr,&#8221; said he, &#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Formal, cold, polite&mdash;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&mdash;nor was his bold heart
+ever more in trepidation than now, as he made excuse for
+delay&mdash;delay&mdash;delay.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My daughter, Mrs. Alston, will join us presently,&#8221; he said. &#8220;So you
+are ready, Captain Lewis?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We are quite prepared, Colonel Burr. My men are on ahead two days&#8217;
+journey, camped at St. Charles, and waiting for me to overtake them.
+Dr. Saugrain, Mr. Chouteau, Mr. Labadie&mdash;one or two others of the
+gentlemen in the city&mdash;are so kind as to offer me a convoy of honor so
+far as St. Charles. We are quite flattered. So now we start&mdash;they are
+waiting for me at the wharf now, and I must go. All bridges are burned
+behind me!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>All bridges burned?</i>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The deep voice of Aaron Burr almost trembled. His keen eye searched
+the face of the young man before him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Every one,&#8221; replied the young Virginian. &#8220;I do not know how or when I
+may return. Perhaps Mr. Clark or myself may come back by sea&mdash;should
+we ever reach the sea. We can only trust to Providence.&#8221;</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&mdash;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&mdash;the woman
+dreaded and demanded by every fiber of his being.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, not so fast, not so fast!&#8221; laughed Theodosia Alston as she came
+into the room, offering her hand. &#8220;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!&#8221;</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>&#8220;I was just going, yes,&#8221; stammered Meriwether Lewis. &#8220;I had hoped&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;
+But what he had hoped he did not say.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why might we not walk down with you to the wharf, if you are so soon
+to go?&#8221; she demanded&mdash;her own self-control concealing any
+disappointment she may have felt at her cavalier reception.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An excellent idea!&#8221; said Aaron Burr, backing his daughter&#8217;s hand, and
+trusting to her to have some plan. &#8220;A warrior must spend his last word
+with some woman, captain! Go you on ahead&mdash;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?&#8221;</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>&#8220;And so Captain Lewis is going to have his way as usual? And he was
+going&mdash;in spite of all&mdash;even without saying good-by to me!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I would have preferred that.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;you will fail!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I thank you, madam!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, you must start now, I presume&mdash;in fact, you have started; but I
+want you to come back before your obstinacy has driven you too far.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Just what do you mean?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Listen. You have given me no time, unkind as you are&mdash;not a
+moment&mdash;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?&#8221;</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&mdash;flatboats, keel-boats, pirogues, canoes&mdash;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>&#8220;I told Shannon, my aide, to meet me here,&#8221; he said at last. &#8220;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He stooped at the low door and entered. But she followed him&mdash;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&mdash;the sudden and
+full realization of both&mdash;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&mdash;had been trying to set them aside as if unheard.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Coming back?&#8221; he began, and stopped short once more. They were now
+both within the shelter of the old building.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, Merne!&#8221; she broke out suddenly. &#8220;When are you coming back to me,
+Merne?&#8221;</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>&#8220;Coming back to <i>you</i>? And you call me by that name? Only my mother,
+Mr. Jefferson and Will Clark ever did so.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, stiff-necked man! It is so hard to be kind with you! And all I
+have ever done&mdash;every time I have followed you in this way, each time
+I have humiliated myself thus&mdash;it always was only in kindness for
+you!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He made no reply.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Fate ran against us, Merne,&#8221; she went on tremblingly. &#8220;We have both
+accepted fate. But in a woman&#8217;s heart are many mansions. Is there none
+in a man&#8217;s&mdash;in yours&mdash;for me? Can&#8217;t I ask a place in a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>good man&#8217;s
+heart&mdash;an innocent, clean place? Oh, think not you have had all the
+unhappiness in your own heart! Is all the world&#8217;s misery yours? I
+don&#8217;t want you to go away, Merne, but if you do&mdash;if you must&mdash;won&#8217;t
+you come back? Oh, won&#8217;t you, Merne?&#8221;</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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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="&#8220;&#8216;Oh, Theo, what have I done?&#8217;&#8221;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&#8220;&#8216;Oh, Theo, what have I done?&#8217;&#8221;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes!&#8221; so said the voice in his ear. &#8220;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?&mdash;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?&#8221;</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&#8217;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&mdash;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&mdash;this picture of Theodosia weeping&mdash;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>&#8220;Theo! Theo! What have I done? What have I done?&#8221;</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&mdash;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&mdash;among
+what hills&mdash;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&#8217;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 d&eacute;tours 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&mdash;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&#8217;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&mdash;all the French voyageurs&mdash;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&mdash;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 &#8220;goslins,&#8221; 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&#8217;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&mdash;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&mdash;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>&#8220;Tell them to make a council, Dorion,&#8221; said Lewis. &#8220;Take this
+officer&#8217;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are chiefs!&#8221; said Dorion. &#8220;Have I not seen it? I will tell them
+so.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>But Dorion had been gone but a short time when he came hurrying back
+from the Indian village.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The runners say plenty buffalo close by,&#8221; he reported. &#8220;The chief,
+she&#8217;ll call the people to hunt the buffalo.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>William Clark turned to his companion.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You hear that, Merne?&#8221; said he. &#8220;Why should we not go also?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Agreed!&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis. &#8220;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;that was part of our
+early education. I might better have been in school sometimes, when I
+was learning the bow.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Dorion,&#8221; said Lewis to the interpreter, &#8220;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&mdash;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.&#8221;</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&mdash;short, keen-pointed
+arrows, suitable for the buffalo hunt, when driven by the stiff bows
+of the Sioux.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Strip, Will,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis. &#8220;If we ride as savages, it must
+be in full keeping.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>They did strip to the waist, as the savages always did when running
+the buffalo&mdash;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&mdash;one whose hair was red.</p>
+
+<p>The two young officers were not content with this. York, Captain
+Clark&#8217;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&mdash;another wonder in that land!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now, York, you rascal,&#8221; commanded William Clark, &#8220;do as I tell you!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yessah, massa Captain, I suttinly will!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;When I raise this flag, do you drop on the ground and knock your
+forehead three times. Groan loud&mdash;groan as if you had religion, York!
+Do you understand?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yassah, massa Captain!&#8221;</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>&#8220;I see that you are chiefs!&#8221; exclaimed Weucha. &#8220;You have many colors,
+and your medicine is strong. Take, then, these two horses of
+mine&mdash;they are good runners for buffalo&mdash;perhaps yours are not so
+fast.&#8221; Thus Dorion interpreted.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now,&#8221; said Clark, &#8220;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.&#8221;</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>&#8220;Now we shall serve!&#8221; 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&mdash;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&mdash;a picture such as any painter might have envied.</p>
+
+<p>Others of the expedition followed on as might be&mdash;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>&#8220;He say Weucha show you how Sioux can ride,&#8221; he interpreted.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Tell him it is good, Dorion,&#8221; rejoined Lewis. &#8220;We will show him also
+that we can ride!&#8221;</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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;saw it
+plunge&mdash;saw the buffalo stumble in its stride&mdash;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>&#8220;Four nice cow I&#8217;ll kill!&#8221; gabbled he. &#8220;I&#8217;ll kill him four tam, bang,
+bang! Plenty meat for my lodge now. How many you&#8217;ll shot, Captain?&#8221; he
+asked of Lewis.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Plenty&mdash;you will find them back there.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Weucha, who came up after magnanimously shaking the hand of William
+Clark, peered with curiosity into Lewis&#8217;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>&#8220;Tell him that is nothing, Dorion,&#8221; said Lewis. &#8220;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!&#8221;</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&mdash;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&mdash;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>&#8220;Weucha,&#8221; said he, Dorion interpreting for him, &#8220;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>&#8220;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>&#8220;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&mdash;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>&#8220;I give you these presents&mdash;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.&#8221;</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>&#8220;I give you the horse you rode this morning,&#8221; said Weucha to Lewis,
+&#8220;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>&#8220;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&mdash;to the Otoes, the Omahas,
+the Osages&mdash;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>&#8220;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!&#8221;</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>&#8220;Look at them, Will,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis, as they paused at the
+edge of the bluff and turned back for a last glimpse at the savage
+scene. &#8220;They are like children. I swear, I almost believe their lot in
+life is happier than our own!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Tut, tut, Merne&mdash;moralizing again?&#8221; laughed William Clark, the
+light-hearted. &#8220;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Sergeant Ordway reports Shannon still absent. It seems he went out on
+the hunt this morning, and has not yet come back. I&#8217;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, that is true,&#8221; rejoined Will Clark, rubbing his bruised leg. &#8220;It
+is beginning to show on you, too, Merne. Isn&#8217;t it enough to be
+astronomer and doctor and bookkeeper and record-keeper and all that?
+No, you think not&mdash;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&mdash;or a human mind, either, Merne. There is a limit to effort and
+endurance.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>His friend turned to him seriously.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are right, Will,&#8221; said he. &#8220;I owe duty to many besides myself.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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!&#8221;</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>&#8220;Tell me, Merne, what are you thinking of? It is not that woman?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He seemed to feel the sudden shrinking of the tall figure at his side.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have touched you on the raw once more, haven&#8217;t I, Merne?&#8221; he
+exclaimed. &#8220;I never meant to. I only want to see you happy.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You must not be too uneasy, Will,&#8221; returned Meriwether Lewis, at
+last. &#8220;It is only that sometimes at night I lie awake and ponder over
+things. And the nights themselves are wonderful!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;what is it you cannot forget? You don&#8217;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&mdash;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&#8217;t be offended&mdash;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.&#8221;</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&mdash;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&mdash;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.&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;which of all
+possible gifts of the gods he would most have coveted&mdash;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&mdash;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&#8217;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&mdash;what is the
+purpose of all this? You have left behind you all that makes
+life worth while&mdash;fortune, fame, life, ambition, honor&mdash;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&mdash;if only I dared&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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>&#8220;Will, Will!&#8221; 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>&#8220;Who calls there? Who goes?&#8221; he cried, half awake.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is I, Will,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis, advancing toward him.
+&#8220;Listen&mdash;tell me, Will, why did you do this?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why did I do what? Merne, what is wrong?&#8221;</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>&#8220;This letter&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; began Meriwether Lewis. &#8220;Certainly you carried it for
+me&mdash;why did you not bring it to me long ago?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What letter? Whose letter is it, Merne? I never saw it before. What
+is it you are saying? Are you mad?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I think so,&#8221; said Lewis, &#8220;I think I must be. Here is a letter&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Who sends it, Merne. What does it say?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is from the woman whose face I have seen at night, Will. She asks
+me to come back!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Burn it&mdash;throw it in the fire!&#8221; said William Clark sharply. &#8220;Go back?
+What, forsake Mr. Jefferson&mdash;leave me?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;on the point of letting you have all the honor of it. I was
+going to surrender my place to you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It would be worth any man&#8217;s life to try a jest like that,&#8221; said
+Meriwether Lewis. &#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She had no right&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ah, but that is the cruelty of it&mdash;she <i>did</i> have the right!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There are some things which a man must work out for himself,&#8221; said
+William Clark slowly, after a time. &#8220;I don&#8217;t think I&#8217;ll ask any
+questions. If there is any place where I can take half your burden,
+you know what I will do. We&#8217;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.&#8221;</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>&#8220;Give the orders to the men to roll out, Captain Clark,&#8221; said he at
+length.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Which way, Captain Lewis&mdash;upstream or down?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The expedition will go forward, Captain Clark.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;God bless you, Merne!&#8221; 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&#8217;S WORK</h3>
+
+<p style="float: left; font-size: 100%; line-height: 80%; margin-top: 0;">&#8220;</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!&#8221;</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>&#8220;Ordway! Gass! Pryor!&#8221; Lewis called in the sergeants in charge of the
+three messes. &#8220;The boy Shannon has not returned. Which of your men,
+Ordway, will best serve to find Shannon and meet us up the river?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Myself, sir,&#8221; said Ordway, &#8220;if you please.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, &#8217;tis meself, sor,&#8221; interrupted Patrick Gass.</p>
+
+<p>Pryor, with hand outstretched, also claimed the honor of the difficult
+undertaking.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You three are needed in the boats,&#8221; said the leader. &#8220;No, I think it
+will be better to send Drouillard and the two Fields boys. But tell
+me, Sergeant Ordway&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Yes, sir!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Has any boat passed up the river within the last day&mdash;for instance,
+while we were away at the hunt?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I think not, sir. Surely any one coming up the river would have
+turned in at our camp.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Lewis turned to Gass, to Pryor; but both agreed that no boat could
+have gone by unnoticed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And no man has come into the camp from below&mdash;no horseman?&#8221;</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>&#8220;The men will find Shannon and bring him in ahead&mdash;we can&#8217;t afford to
+wait here for them. The water is falling now,&#8221; said Clark. &#8220;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&mdash;that would make it sixty miles upstream&mdash;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!&#8221; he called. &#8220;You shall lead the line
+for the first draw. Make it lively for an hour! Sing some song,
+Cruzatte, if you can&mdash;some song of old Kaskaskia.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Sure, the Frenchmans, she&#8217;ll lead on the line this morning,
+<i>Capitaine</i>! I&#8217;ll put nine, seven Frenchmans on the line, and she&#8217;ll
+run on the bank on her bare feet two hour&mdash;one hour. This buffalo
+meat, she make Frenchmans strong like nothing!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Go on, Frenchy!&#8221; said Patrick Gass, Cruzatte&#8217;s sergeant, who stood
+near by. &#8220;Wait until time comes for my squad on the line&mdash;&#8217;tis thin
+we&#8217;ll make the elkhide hum! There&#8217;s a few of the Irish along.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ho!&#8221; said Ordway, usually silent. &#8220;Wait rather for us Yankees&mdash;we&#8217;ll
+show you what old Vermont can do!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;As to that,&#8221; said Pryor, &#8220;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; broke in Peter Weiser, joining them as they argued, &#8220;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&mdash;ole Virginny
+never tires!&#8221;</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&#8217;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&mdash;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>&#8220;We surely must be almost across now!&#8221; 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>&#8220;It certainly is in the off chance now,&#8221; assented William Clark
+seriously, one day as they lay in the noon encampment. &#8220;But perhaps he
+may be among the natives somewhere, and we may hear of him when we
+come back&mdash;if ever we do.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If he got by the Teton Sioux, and kept on up the river, in time he
+would find us somewhere among the Mandans,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis.
+&#8220;But we will try once more before we give him up. Send a man to the
+top of the bluff with my spyglass.&#8221;</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&#8217;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>&#8220;And she was lucky man, too!&#8221; said Drouillard, a half-hour later,
+nodding toward the opposite shore. &#8220;Suppose he is on that side, she&#8217;ll
+not go in today!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Two weeks on his foot!&#8221;</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>&#8220;Sioux!&#8221; said he. &#8220;They are painted, too. I fancy,&#8221; he added, as he
+turned toward his associates, &#8220;that this must be Black Buffalo&#8217;s band
+of Tetons you&#8217;ve told us about, Drouillard.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>Oui, oui</i>, the Teton!&#8221; exclaimed Drouillard. &#8220;I&#8217;ll not spoke his
+language, me; but she&#8217;ll be bad Sioux. <i>Prenez garde, Capitaine,
+prenez garde pour ces sauvages, les Sioux!</i>&#8221;</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&mdash;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>&#8220;Bring out the flag, Will,&#8221; said he. &#8220;Put up our council awning. I&#8217;ll
+have a parley with their head man. Can you make him out, Drouillard?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;ll said he was Black Buffalo,&#8221; replied the Frenchman. &#8220;I don&#8217;t
+understand him very good.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Take him these things, Drouillard,&#8221; said Lewis. &#8220;Give him a lace coat
+and hat, a red feather, some tobacco, and this medal. Tell him that
+when we get ready we&#8217;ll make a talk with him.&#8221;</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&#8217;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&#8217;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&mdash;the gun whose thunder voice they had
+heard.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Big medicine!&#8221; 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>&#8220;<i>Croyez moi!</i>&#8221; ejaculated Drouillard. &#8220;These Hinjun, she&#8217;ll think he
+own this country!&#8221;</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>&#8220;Black Buffalo,&#8221; said Lewis, as best he might through his interpreter,
+&#8220;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ha!&#8221; exclaimed the Teton leader, his dignity outraged. &#8220;You say I am
+not Black Buffalo&mdash;that I am not a chief. I will show you!&#8221;</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>&#8220;A near thing, Merne!&#8221; said Will Clark after a time. &#8220;There is some
+mighty Hand that seems to guide us&mdash;is it not the truth?&#8221;</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&mdash;winter on the plains. It
+was late in October, more than five months out from St. Louis, when
+Mr. Jefferson&#8217;s &#8220;Volunteers for the Discovery of the West&#8221; 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&mdash;McCracken, an Irishman; Jussaume, a Frenchman; Henderson, an
+Englishman; La Roque, another Frenchman&mdash;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&#8217;s goods gave his
+people over the neighboring tribes, and also quick to understand the
+virtue of competition.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Brothers,&#8221; said he, &#8220;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We open our ears to what Big White has said,&#8221; replied Lewis&mdash;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. &#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What Great Father is that?&#8221; demanded Big White. &#8220;It seems there are
+many Great Fathers in these days! Who are you strangers, who come from
+so far?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is good,&#8221; said the Mandan. &#8220;<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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;When the grass is green,&#8221; said Lewis, &#8220;I shall lead my young men
+toward the setting sun. We shall make new trails.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Jussaume, McCracken, and all the others held their own council with
+the leaders of the expedition.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What are you doing here?&#8221; they demanded. &#8220;The Missouri has always
+belonged to the British traders.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The face of Meriwether Lewis flushed with anger.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We are about the business of our government,&#8221; he said. &#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Purchase? What purchase?&#8221; 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>&#8220;The Louisiana Purchase&mdash;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&mdash;the Missouri is our own pathway into our own
+country. That is our business here!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You must go back!&#8221; said the hot-headed Irishman. &#8220;I shall tell my
+factor, Chaboillez, at Fort Assiniboine. We want no more traders here.
+This is our country!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We do not come to trade,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis. &#8220;We play a larger
+game. I know that the men of the Northwest Company have found the
+Arctic Ocean&mdash;you <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span>are welcome to it until we want it&mdash;we do not want
+it now. I know you have found the Pacific somewhere above the
+Columbia&mdash;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>McCracken, irritated, turned away from the talk.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is a fine fairy tale they tell us!&#8221; said he to his fellows.</p>
+
+<p>Drouillard came a moment later to his chief.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Those men she&#8217;ll take her dog-team for Assiniboine now&mdash;maybe so one
+hundred and fifty miles that way. He&#8217;ll told his factor now, on the
+Assiniboine post.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Lewis smiled.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Tell him to take this letter to his factor, Drouillard,&#8221; said he. &#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My faith,&#8221; said Jussaume, the Frenchman, &#8220;you come a long way! Why
+you want to go more farther West? But, listen, <i>Monsieur
+Capitaine</i>&mdash;the Englishman, he&#8217;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&mdash;I know!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;&#8217;Tis a long road from here to the middle of Lake Superior&#8217;s north
+shore,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis. &#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know the man they&#8217;ll send,&#8221; went on Jussaume. &#8220;Simon Fraser&mdash;I know
+him. Long time he&#8217;ll want to go up the Saskatchewan and over the
+mountain on the ocean.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll race Mr. Fraser to the ocean,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis; &#8220;him or
+any other man. While he plans, we shall be on our way!&#8221;</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>&#8220;The red-headed young man is not so bad,&#8221; said one of the white
+news-bearers at the Assiniboine post. &#8220;He is willing to parley, and he
+seems disposed to be amiable. But the other, the one named Lewis&mdash;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Agreed, then!&#8221; 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. &#8220;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&mdash;all of
+them, not part of them&mdash;very well. If they will not listen to reason,
+then we shall use such means as we need to stop them.&#8221;</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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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>&#8220;They have built a great house of tall logs,&#8221; said the Indians. &#8220;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>&#8220;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&mdash;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&mdash;all the time they work at something, the two
+chiefs. They have a black man with them who cannot be washed
+white&mdash;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>&#8220;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&mdash;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&mdash;not a day
+goes by that their hunters do not bring in elk and deer and buffalo.
+They do not fear us.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We have seen no men like these. They are chiefs, and their medicine
+is strong!&#8221;</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;">&#8220;</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!&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis, when, at length, one
+cold winter morning, they stood within the walls of the completed
+fortress. &#8220;Now we can have our own fireplace and go on with our work
+in comfort. The collection is growing splendidly!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, Mr. Jefferson will find that we have been busy,&#8221; rejoined Clark.
+&#8220;The barge will go down well loaded in the spring. They&#8217;ll have the
+best of it&mdash;downhill, and over country they have crossed.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;True,&#8221; mused Lewis. &#8220;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&mdash;you know our other new
+interpreter, the sullen chap, Charbonneau&mdash;that polygamous scamp with
+two or three Indian wives?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, and a surly brute he is!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;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&mdash;see the moccasins she made for me but now. And I
+only had to knock her husband down once for beating her!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Lucky man!&#8221; grinned William Clark. &#8220;I have knocked him down half a
+dozen times, and she has made me no moccasins at all. But what then?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;the &#8216;Ro&#8217;jaune,&#8217; Jussaume calls it. Very well. Many
+days&#8217;or weeks&#8217; journey toward the west, this river comes again within
+a half-day&#8217;s march of the Missouri. That is near the summit of the
+mountains; and this girl&#8217;s people live there.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;By the Lord, Merne, you&#8217;re a genius for getting over new country!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Wait. I find the child very bright&mdash;very clear of mind. And listen,
+Will&mdash;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&#8217;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&mdash;the &#8216;Bird
+Woman.&#8217; 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&mdash;or, at least, you will do so, Will,&#8221; he
+concluded.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What do you mean, Merne? Surely, if I do, you will also!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I cannot be sure.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The florid face of William Clark showed a frown of displeasure.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are not as well as you should be&mdash;you work too much. That is not
+just to Mr. Jefferson, Merne, nor to our men, nor to me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It was for that reason I took you on. Doesn&#8217;t a man have two lungs,
+two arms, two limbs, two eyes? We are those for Mr. Jefferson&mdash;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Meriwether Lewis turned to his colleague with the sweet smile which
+sometimes his friends saw.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You see, I am a fatalist,&#8221; he went on. &#8220;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&#8217;t question me too deep. Your
+flag, Will, I know will be planted on the last parapet of life&mdash;you
+were born to succeed. For myself, I still must remember what my mother
+told me&mdash;something about the burden which would be too heavy, the
+trail which would be long. At times I doubt.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Confound it, Merne, you have not been yourself since you got that
+accursed letter in the night last summer!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;It was unsettling, I don&#8217;t deny.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I pray Heaven you&#8217;ll never get another!&#8221; said William Clark. &#8220;From a
+married woman, too! Thank God I&#8217;ve no such affair on my mind!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is taboo, Will&mdash;that one thing!&#8221;</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&mdash;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&mdash;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>&#8220;White men make a medicine dance,&#8221; 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&mdash;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&#8217;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&mdash;her people had heard of that&mdash;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&mdash;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>&#8220;Keep the men going, Will,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis. &#8220;I&#8217;ll go to my room
+and get forward some letters which I want to write&mdash;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!&#8221;</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.&mdash;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&mdash;that he
+was a helpless instrument in the hands of fate. He broke the seal&mdash;not
+noticing as he did so that it had a number scratched into the wax&mdash;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&mdash;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&#8217;s faces so often&mdash;so soon&mdash;are lost from
+a man&#8217;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&#8217;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&mdash;can you forget what you said?</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I will always be there, Theodosia,&#8221; you said, &#8220;when you are
+in trouble!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>You said it stoutly, and I believed it, as a child.</p>
+
+<p>I believed you then&mdash;I believe you now. I still have the
+same child&#8217;s faith in you. My mother died while I was young;
+my father has always been so busy&mdash;I scarcely have been a
+girl, as you say you never were a boy. You know my
+husband&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;and I may tell it
+to you&mdash;that on your recall rested all hope of the success
+of our own cause on the lower Mississippi&mdash;for ourselves and
+for you. If you do not come back to us, as early as you can,
+you condemn us to failure&mdash;myself&mdash;my life&mdash;that of my
+father&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;it is
+Captain Lewis. And&mdash;how shall I say it and not be
+misunderstood?&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;who has cherished so much ambition
+for you?</p>
+
+<p>Meriwether Lewis, my friend&mdash;you who would have been my
+lover&mdash;for whom there is no hope, since fate has been so
+unkind&mdash;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&mdash;in whatever direction you may
+travel&mdash;from us or toward us&mdash;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&mdash;return to keep his promise&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;he never knew how long&mdash;he sat thus, staring,
+pondering, but at length with sudden energy he rose and flung open the
+door of the dancing-room.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Will!&#8221; he called to his companion.</p>
+
+<p>When William Clark joined his friend in the outer air, he saw the open
+letter in Lewis&#8217;s hand&mdash;saw also the distress upon his countenance.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Merne, it&#8217;s another letter from that woman! I wish I had her here,
+that I might wring her neck!&#8221; said William Clark viciously. &#8220;Who
+brought it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know.&#8221;</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>&#8220;Will,&#8221; said he at length, &#8220;don&#8217;t you recall what I was telling you
+this very morning? I felt something coming&mdash;I felt that fate had
+something more for me. You know I spoke in doubt.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Listen, Merne!&#8221; replied William Clark. &#8220;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>His friend looked him steadily in the eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Rebuke not her, but me!&#8221; he said. &#8220;This letter asks me to come back
+to kiss away a woman&#8217;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&mdash;I, your friend, did that!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>William Clark, more genuinely troubled than ever in his life before,
+was dumb.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My future is forfeited, Will,&#8221; went on the same even, dull voice,
+which Clark could scarcely recognize; &#8220;but I have decided to go on
+through with you.&#8221;</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;">&#8220;</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?&#8221; asked Meriwether Lewis. &#8220;Which is the river? If we
+miss many guesses, the British will beat us through. Which is our
+river here?&#8221;</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&mdash;both animals then new
+to science&mdash;antlers of the deer and elk, stuffed specimens, dried
+skins, herbs, fruits, flowers; and with all these the broken story of
+a new geography&mdash;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>&#8220;Which way, Sacajawea?&#8221; asked Meriwether Lewis. &#8220;What river is this
+which goes on to the left?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Him Ro&#8217;shone,&#8221; replied the girl. &#8220;My man call him that. No good!
+<i>Him</i>&mdash;big river&#8221;; and she pointed toward the right-hand stream.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;As I thought, Will,&#8221; said Lewis, nodding; and again, to the Indian
+girl: &#8220;Do you remember this place?&#8221;</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>&#8220;See!&#8221;</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&mdash;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&#8217; drawings made
+with a pointed stick upon the earth, or with a coal on a whitened
+hide.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She knows, Will!&#8221; said Lewis. &#8220;See, this place she marks near the
+mountain summit, where the two streams are close&mdash;some time we must
+explore that crossing!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m sure I&#8217;d rather trust her map than this one, here, of old
+Jonathan Carver,&#8221; answered Clark, the map-maker. &#8220;His idea of this
+country is that four great rivers head about where we are now. He
+marks the river Bourbon&mdash;which I never heard of&mdash;as running north to
+Hudson Bay, but he has the St. Lawrence rising near here, too&mdash;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. &#8217;Tis all very simple, on Carver&#8217;s maps, but perhaps not
+quite so easy, if we follow that of Sacajawea. This country is wider
+than any of us ever dreamed.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And greater, and more beautiful in every way,&#8221; 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&mdash;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&mdash;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>&#8220;Soon we see the mountains!&#8221; 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>&#8220;It is the mountains!&#8221; he exclaimed. &#8220;There lie the Stonies. They do
+exist! We shall surely reach them! We have won!&#8221;</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>&#8220;The north wan, she&#8217;ll be the right wan, <i>Capitaine</i>,&#8221; 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>&#8220;Blackfoot!&#8221; 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>&#8220;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,&#8221; one said. &#8220;We shall perish when the winter comes!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We will go both ways,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis at length. &#8220;Captain
+Clark will explore the lower fork, while I go up the right-hand
+stream. We will meet here when we know the truth.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>So Lewis traveled two days&#8217; journey up the right-hand fork before he
+turned back, thoughtful.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have decided,&#8221; said he to the men who accompanied him. &#8220;This stream
+will lead us far to the north, into the British country. It cannot be
+the true Missouri. I shall call this Maria&#8217;s River, after my cousin in
+Virginia, Maria Woods. I shall not call it the Missouri.&#8221;</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>&#8220;We must prove it yet further,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis. &#8220;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&mdash;we shall fail! But where is Sacajawea?&#8221; he added.
+&#8220;I will ask her once more.&#8221;</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, &#8220;That way! By
+and by, big falls&mdash;um-m-m, um-m-m!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Guard her well,&#8221; said Lewis anxiously. &#8220;Much depends on her. I must
+go on ahead.&#8221;</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&mdash;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&mdash;they hid it
+in the willows of an island near the mouth of Maria&#8217;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 ca&ntilde;on.</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&mdash;those wonderful cascades, now so well known in industry, so
+nearly forgotten in history.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The girl was right&mdash;this is the river!&#8221; said Lewis to his men. &#8220;It
+comes from the mountains. We are right!&#8221;</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&#8217;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>&#8220;Make some boat-trucks, Will,&#8221; said Lewis, when at last they were all
+encamped at the foot of the falls. &#8220;We shall have to portage twenty
+miles of falls and rapids.&#8221;</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>&#8220;We must leave more plunder here, Merne,&#8221; said he. &#8220;We can&#8217;t get into
+the mountains with all this.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>So again they cached some of their stores. They buried here the great
+swivel piece which had &#8220;made the thunder&#8221; among so many savage tribes.
+Also there were stored here the spring&#8217;s collection of animals and
+minerals, certain books and maps not needed, and the great grindstone
+which had come all the way from Harper&#8217;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>&#8220;We must go on!&#8221; 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>&#8220;My people here!&#8221; said she, and pointed to camp-fires. &#8220;Plenty people
+come here. Heap hunt buffalo!&#8221; She pointed out the trails made by the
+lodge-poles.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She knows, Will!&#8221; said Lewis, once more. &#8220;We have a guide even here.
+We are the luckiest of men!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Soon we come where three rivers,&#8221; said Sacajawea one day. They had
+passed to the south and west through the first range of
+mountains&mdash;through that Gate of the Mountains near to the rich gold
+fields of the future State of Montana. &#8220;By and by, three rivers&mdash;I
+know!&#8221;</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>&#8220;We will camp here,&#8221; said the leader. &#8220;We are tired, we have worked
+long and hard!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My people come here,&#8221; said Sacajawea, &#8220;plenty time. Here the
+Minnetarees struck my people&mdash;five snows ago that was. They caught me
+and took me with them, so I find Charbonneau among the Mandans. Here
+my people live!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Without hesitation she pointed out that one of the three forks of the
+Missouri which led off to the westward&mdash;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&mdash;well
+known to all the Indians&mdash;they went into camp once more.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Captains make medicine now,&#8221; 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>&#8220;You will be cold, sir,&#8221; said one of the men solicitously, as he
+passed on his way to guard mount. &#8220;Shall I fetch your coat?&#8221;</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&#8217;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>&#8220;Is Shannon here?&#8221; he asked of the man who had handed him the coat.
+&#8220;He was to get my moccasins mended for me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, captain, he is out with Captain Clark,&#8221; replied Fields, the
+Kentuckian.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Very well&mdash;that will do, Fields.&#8221;</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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&#8217; scouting trip, his
+forehead was furrowed with anxiety. His men were silent as they filed
+into camp and cast down their knapsacks.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s no use, Merne,&#8221; said Clark, &#8220;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&mdash;downstream.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What do you mean?&#8221; demanded Meriwether Lewis quietly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I scarce know. I am worn out, Merne. My men have been driven hard.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And why not?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>His companion remained silent under the apparent rebuke.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t mean that we should return?&#8221; Lewis went on.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why not, Merne?&#8221; said William Clark, sighing.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Our men are exhausted. There are other years than this.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Meriwether Lewis turned upon his friend with the one flash of wrath
+which ever was known between them.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good Heavens, Captain Clark,&#8221; said he, &#8220;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&mdash;within the hour I shall go on. We&#8217;ll
+cross over, or we&#8217;ll leave the bones of every man of the expedition
+here&mdash;this year&mdash;now!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Clark&#8217;s florid face flushed under the sting of his comrade&#8217;s words;
+but his response was manful and just.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are right,&#8221; said he at length. &#8220;Forgive me if for a moment&mdash;just
+a moment&mdash;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&mdash;yet I know what excuse you would have
+for it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are only weary, Will. It is my turn now,&#8221; 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>&#8220;McNeal,&#8221; said he, &#8220;get Reuben Fields, Whitehouse, and Goodrich. Make
+light packs. We are going into the mountains!&#8221;</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>&#8220;That way!&#8221; 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&mdash;that was little&mdash;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>&#8220;It stands to reason,&#8221; said Ordway, usually so silent, &#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Pryor nodded his head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sure,&#8221; said he, &#8220;and all the game-trails break off to the south and
+southwest. Follow the elk!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is it so?&#8221; exclaimed Patrick Gass. &#8220;You think it aisy to find a way
+across yonder range? And how d&#8217;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&#8217;ve been done <i>wance</i>&mdash;but it&#8217;s the first toime
+that counts!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There is no other way, Pat,&#8221; argued Ordway. &#8220;&#8217;Tis the rivers that
+make passes in any mountain range.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Which is the roight river, then?&#8221; rejoined Gass. &#8220;We&#8217;re lookin&#8217; for
+wan that mebbe is nowhere near here. S&#8217;pose we go to the top yonder
+and take a creek down, and s&#8217;pose that creek don&#8217;t run the roight way
+at all, but comes out a thousand miles to the southwest&mdash;where are you
+then, I&#8217;d like to know? The throuble with us is we&#8217;re the first wans
+to cross here, and not comin&#8217; along after some one else has done the
+thrick for us.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Pryor was willing to argue further.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All the Injuns have said the big river was over there somewhere.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Somewhere&#8217;!&#8221; exclaimed Patrick Gass. &#8220;&#8216;Somewhere&#8217; is a mighty long
+ways when we&#8217;re lost and hungry!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Which is just what we are now,&#8221; rejoined Pryor. &#8220;The sooner we start
+back the quicker we&#8217;ll be out of this.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Pryor!&#8221; The square face of the Irishman hardened at once. &#8220;Listen to
+me. Ye&#8217;re my bunkmate and friend, but I warn ye not to say that agin!
+If ye said it where he could hear ye&mdash;that man ahead&mdash;do you know what
+he would do to you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I ain&#8217;t particular. &#8217;Tis time we took this thing into our own hands.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s where we&#8217;re takin&#8217; it <i>now</i>, Pryor!&#8221; said Gass ominously. &#8220;A
+coort martial has set for less than that ye&#8217;ve said!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Mebbe you couldn&#8217;t call one&mdash;I don&#8217;t know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mebbe we couldn&#8217;t, eh? I mind me of a little settlement I had with
+that man wance&mdash;no coort martial at all&mdash;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 &#8217;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&mdash;and you, too, Ordway&mdash;a man like that is liable to
+have judgment in his head as well as a punch in his arm. We&#8217;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&#8217; around and talkin&#8217;
+any disrespect to their shuperiors. If we&#8217;re in a bad place, let us
+fight our ways out. Let&#8217;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&#8217; to
+fight. I&#8217;m with him!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, maybe you are right, Pat,&#8221; 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>&#8220;What is it, Captain?&#8221; asked Hugh McNeal. &#8220;Some game?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, a man&mdash;an Indian! Riding a good horse, too&mdash;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!&#8221;</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>&#8220;His people are that way,&#8221; said Lewis. &#8220;Come!&#8221;</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>&#8220;These are Shoshones,&#8221; said he to his men. &#8220;I can speak with them&mdash;I
+have learned some of their tongue from Sacajawea. These are her
+people. We are safe!&#8221;</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&mdash;the few words of their tongue
+which Lewis was able to speak gave them assurance.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;McNeal,&#8221; said Lewis, &#8220;go back now across the range, and tell Captain
+Clark to bring up the men.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>William Clark, given one night&#8217;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>&#8220;My people! My people!&#8221; 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&mdash;they would be footmen no
+more.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Which way, Sacajawea?&#8221; Meriwether Lewis once more asked the Indian
+girl.</p>
+
+<p>But now she only shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not know,&#8221; said she. &#8220;These my people. They say big river that way.
+Not know which way.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now, Merne,&#8221; said William Clark, &#8220;it&#8217;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&mdash;they have heard of goods which must have been made by white
+men. We are in touch with the Pacific here. I&#8217;ll get a guide and
+explore off to the southwest. It looks better there.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No good&mdash;no good!&#8221; insisted Sacajawea. &#8220;That way no good. My brother
+say go that way.&#8221;</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>&#8220;That way!&#8221; 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>&#8220;We will go north,&#8221; 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>&#8220;No!&#8221; said Sacajawea. &#8220;I no go back&mdash;I go with the white chief to the
+water that tastes salt!&#8221; 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&mdash;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&mdash;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>&#8220;There is a trail,&#8221; said he, &#8220;which comes across here. The Indians
+come to reach the buffalo. On the farther side the water runs toward
+the sunset.&#8221;</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&mdash;the Nez Perc&eacute;s. 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>&#8220;We will leave our horses here,&#8221; said Lewis. &#8220;We will take to the
+boats once more.&#8221;</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 Perc&eacute;s,
+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&mdash;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>&#8220;Will,&#8221; said Lewis, &#8220;it is done&mdash;we are safe now! We shall be first
+across to the Columbia. This&mdash;&#8221; he shook the Nez Perc&eacute;s&#8217; scrawled
+hide&mdash;&#8220;is the map of a new world!&#8221;</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&#8217;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&mdash;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&mdash;all the
+adventurers&mdash;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&mdash;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&#8217;s,
+Rainier, Adams&mdash;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&mdash;all you others&mdash;time now,
+indeed, for you to raise the song of the old voyageurs! None have come
+so far as you&mdash;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&mdash;canoes with trees
+standing in them, on which teepees were hung.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Me,&#8221; said Cruzatte, &#8220;I never in my whole life was seen a sheep! I
+will be glad for see wan now.&#8221;</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&mdash;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>&#8220;The big flag, Sergeant Gass!&#8221; said Lewis.</p>
+
+<p>They turned ashore. There had been four mess fires at each encampment
+thus far&mdash;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>&#8220;Men,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis at length, &#8220;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.&#8221;</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>&#8220;And the confounded ships are all gone back to sea!&#8221; grumbled Patrick
+Gass. &#8220;I&#8217;ve been achin&#8217; for days to git here, in the hope of foindin&#8217;
+some sailor man I&#8217;d loike to thrash&mdash;and here is no one at all, at
+all!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Will,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis after a time, pulling out the inevitable
+map, &#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; grinned William Clark, standing on one leg and warming his wet
+moccasin sole at the fire; &#8220;and I wonder where that other gentleman,
+Mr. Simon Fraser, is just now!&#8221;</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>&#8220;That&#8217;s Lewis and Clark!&#8221; said Simon Fraser. &#8220;They were at the Mandan
+villages. We are beaten!&#8221;</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>&#8220;There is little to attract us here,&#8221; said William Clark. &#8220;On the
+south shore there is better shelter for our winter camp.&#8221; 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&mdash;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&#8217;s
+fiddle. Came New Year&#8217;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>&#8220;Pretty soon, by and by,&#8221; said the voyageurs, &#8220;we will run on the
+river for home once more!&#8221;</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>&#8220;We must leave a record, Will,&#8221; said Lewis one day, looking up from
+his papers. &#8220;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.&#8221;</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&mdash;who can glibly list the names of the multimillionaires of
+America&mdash;cannot tell the names of more than two of those thirty-one
+men, each of whom should be an immortal.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Boats now, Will!&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis. &#8220;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&#8217; seagoing canoes,
+Will&mdash;their lines are easier than those of our dugouts.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Need was for skilful trading now on the part of William Clark, for,
+eager as the natives were for the white men&#8217;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>&#8220;You could tie up all the rest in a couple of handkerchiefs,&#8221; said
+William Clark, laughing. &#8220;But such as it is, it must last us back to
+St. Louis&mdash;or at least to our caches on the Missouri.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How is your salt, Will?&#8221; asked Lewis. &#8220;And your powder?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;In fine shape,&#8221; was the reply. &#8220;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.&#8221;</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&mdash;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>&#8220;What is the matter with you, Merne?&#8221; grumbled his more buoyant
+companion. &#8220;Are you still carrying all the weight of the entire
+world?&#8221;</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&mdash;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>&#8220;Capt&#8217;in,&#8221; she said one day, &#8220;what for you no laff? What for you no
+eat? What for you all time think, think, think? See,&#8221; she extended a
+hand&mdash;&#8220;I make you some more moccasin. I got picture your foot&mdash;these
+fit plenty good.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Thank you, Bird Woman,&#8221; said Lewis, rousing himself. &#8220;Without you we
+would not be here today. What can I give you in return for all
+that&mdash;in return for these?&#8221;</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&#8217;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&mdash;hungry for another message out of the sky&mdash;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&mdash;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>&#8220;Yes, Sergeant Ordway?&#8221; said he presently, looking up.</p>
+
+<p>Ordway saluted.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Something for you, sir. It seems to be a letter.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A letter! How could that be?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;That is the puzzle, sir,&#8221; said Ordway, extending a folded and sealed
+bit of paper. &#8220;We do not know how it came. Charbonneau&#8217;s wife, the
+Indian woman, found it in the baby&#8217;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Possibly&mdash;possibly,&#8221; said Lewis. His face was growing pale. &#8220;That is
+all, I think, Sergeant,&#8221; 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 &#8220;4.&#8221; He opened the letter slowly. There fell
+from it a square of stiff, white paper&mdash;all white, he thought, until
+he turned it over. Then he saw it looking up at him&mdash;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&mdash;the profile so cleanly cut and
+lofty&mdash;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="&#8220;Her face indeed!&#8221;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&#8220;Her face indeed!&#8221;</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&mdash;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. &#8217;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&mdash;destroyed&mdash;plans made for you. We are in ignorance,
+each of the other, now. I do not know where you are&mdash;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&mdash;as I do
+now?</p>
+
+<p>You have forgotten your childhood friend! I may be dead as
+you read&mdash;would you care? I have been in need&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;have you come to be just a
+man like the others? Tell me&mdash;no, I will not ask you! If I
+thought you could descend to the lawless standard of the
+wilderness&mdash;but no, I cannot think of that! In any case,
+&#8217;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&mdash;three months, four, six&mdash;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&mdash;my father and his friends&mdash;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&mdash;the duty&mdash;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&mdash;&mdash;</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&mdash;<i>has been for you!</i> See, I am
+writing those words&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;that you brought this on yourself&mdash;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>&#8220;She asked and I refused her!&#8221;</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&mdash;the truth I ought not to lay upon you as any
+secret&mdash;<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&mdash;I am in your hands&mdash;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&mdash;do you not see?&mdash;a gentleman does not kiss the
+woman whom he has at a disadvantage&mdash;the woman who can never
+be his, who is another&#8217;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&mdash;the one you gave me years ago when I was in Virginia.
+And it&mdash;good night, Mr. Meriwether Lewis!</p>
+
+<p>Place me apart&mdash;far from you in the room. Let my face not
+look at you direct. But in your heart&mdash;your hard heart of a
+man, intent on dreams, forgetful of all else&mdash;please, please
+let there linger some small memory of her who dares to write
+these lines&mdash;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&#8217;s fingers. He asked no questions, but he knew.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Enough!&#8221; broke out Meriwether Lewis hoarsely. &#8220;No more of this&mdash;we
+must be gone! Are the men ready? Why do we delay? Why are we not away
+for the journey home?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>So impatient, so incoherent, did his speech seem that for a time Clark
+almost feared lest his friend&#8217;s reason might have been affected. But
+he only stood looking at Lewis, ready to be of such aid as might be.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;In two hours, Merne,&#8221; said he, &#8220;we will be on our way.&#8221;</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&mdash;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&mdash;which seemed exceedingly good food.</p>
+
+<p>The Nez Perc&eacute;s, 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 Perc&eacute;s guides. By the third of
+July&mdash;just three years from the date of the Louisiana Purchase as it
+was made known at Mr. Jefferson&#8217;s simplicity dinner&mdash;they were across
+the Bitter Roots once more, in the pleasant valleys of the eastern
+slope.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That way,&#8221; said Sacajawea, pointing, &#8220;big falls!&#8221;</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
+Perc&eacute;s knew well.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We must part, Will,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis. &#8220;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.&#8221;</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>&#8220;That way short path over mountains,&#8221; 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&#8217;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>&#8220;That way,&#8221; said she, &#8220;find boat, find cache!&#8221;</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&#8217;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>&#8220;That way!&#8221; 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&#8217;s
+extraordinary short cut between the Missouri and the Yellowstone. They
+struck the latter river below the mouth of its great ca&ntilde;on, 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&mdash;Pryor, Shannon, Hall and one or two others&mdash;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&#8217;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>&#8220;Sergeant Gass,&#8221; said Captain Lewis, &#8220;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&#8217;s River. When you come to the mouth of that river&mdash;which you
+will remember some of you held to be the real Missouri&mdash;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&#8217;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&#8217;s River somewhere about the beginning of August.&#8221;</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>&#8220;Curse you, turn loose of me!&#8221; 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>&#8220;Mount, men! Hurry!&#8221; 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&#8217;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&mdash;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&mdash;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>&#8220;The captain! I&#8217;ve keeled him&mdash;I&#8217;ve keeled the captain&mdash;I&#8217;ve shot
+him!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What is that you&#8217;re saying?&#8221; demanded Patrick Gass. &#8220;If you&#8217;ve done
+that, you would be better dead yourself!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He reached out, caught Cruzatte&#8217;s rifle, and flung it away from him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Where is he?&#8221; he demanded.</p>
+
+<p>Cruzatte led the way back.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I see something move on the bushes,&#8221; said he, &#8220;and I shoot. It was
+not elk&mdash;it was the captain. <i>Mon Dieu</i>, what shall we do?&#8221;</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&mdash;tears which touched Meriwether Lewis
+deeply.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is all right, men!&#8221; said he. &#8220;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!&#8221;</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>&#8220;Sergeant,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis, &#8220;the natural fever of my wound is
+coming on. Give me my little war-sack yonder&mdash;I must see if I can find
+some medicine.&#8221;</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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;the one secret
+of my life&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;of the vast comfort of the plains, of the
+mountains&mdash;the sweep of the untiring winds, sweet in the
+trees and grasses&mdash;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&mdash;how can I&mdash;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&#8217;s life even than
+his deeds and his ambitions&mdash;even than his labors&mdash;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&mdash;what do we know of men? I cannot
+say, though I am a married woman. My husband married me. We
+had our honeymoon&mdash;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&#8217;s life&mdash;above all&mdash;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&mdash;no! What was I
+saying, Meriwether Lewis, to you but now, even though you
+were blind and deaf? I must not&mdash;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&#8217;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&mdash;perhaps at this very time&mdash;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&mdash;it is my confessional. How often does a woman ever
+confess her own, her inner and real heart? Never, I think,
+to any man&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;your own impulses&mdash;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&#8217;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&mdash;and that you were
+Meriwether Lewis of Virginia.</p>
+
+<p>Nay, I <i>cannot</i> stop! How can you mind my garrulous pen&mdash;my
+vain pen&mdash;my wicked, wicked, wicked, shameful pen&mdash;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&mdash;let <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span>that also go out to the world&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;pushing on through everything to what you have set out
+to do&mdash;that is the man I could have loved! Deeds, deeds,
+high accomplishments&mdash;these in truth are the things which
+are to prevail. The selfish love of success as success&mdash;the
+love of ease, of money, of power&mdash;these are the things women
+covet <i>from</i> a man&mdash;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&mdash;forget all that I have said to you before&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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>&#8220;I hope I shall not be unhappy, for I do not feel that I
+have been bad.&#8221;</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;">&#8220;</p><p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">C</span>aptain, dear,&#8221; said honest Patrick Gass, putting an arm under his
+wounded commander&#8217;s shoulders as he eased his position in the boat,
+&#8220;ye are not the man ye was when ye hit me that punch back yonder on
+the Ohio, three years ago. Since ye&#8217;re so weak now, I have a good mind
+to return it to ye, with me compliments. &#8217;Tis safer now!&#8221;</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&mdash;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>&#8220;What&#8217;s wrong, Merne?&#8221; he exclaimed. &#8220;Tell me!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Lewis waved a hand at him in reassurance, and smiled as his friend
+bent above him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nothing at all, Will,&#8221; said he. &#8220;Nothing at all&mdash;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.&#8221;</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&mdash;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&mdash;rather than the forsaken infant who lustily
+bemoaned his mother&#8217;s absence from his tripod in the lodge&mdash;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&#8217;s restless soul was
+dissatisfied with delay. He would not wait.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We must get on!&#8221; said he. &#8220;We cannot delay.&#8221;</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>&#8220;I will go,&#8221; said he. &#8220;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.&#8221;</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>&#8220;Sacajawea,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis, when the hour for departure came,
+&#8220;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&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Her face lighted up with a strange wistfulness.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, Capt&#8217;in,&#8221; said she, &#8220;I go with Big White&mdash;and you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He smiled as he shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We go farther than that, many sleeps farther.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;Mrs. Charbonneau!&#8221;</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>&#8220;Sacajawea,&#8221; said he, &#8220;I cannot take your husband with me. All my
+goods are gone&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Aw right!&#8221; said Sacajawea, in paleface idiom. &#8220;Him stay&mdash;me go!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Meriwether Lewis pondered for a time on what fashion of speech he must
+employ to make her understand.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Bird Woman,&#8221; said he at length, &#8220;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, &#8216;Who is that woman there? She has no lodge; she does
+not belong to any man.&#8217; They must not say that of Sacajawea&mdash;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&#8217;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&mdash;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Your words are good,&#8221; said Sacajawea. &#8220;But I go, too! No want to stay
+here now. No can stay!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But here is your village, Sacajawea&mdash;this is your home, where you
+must live. You will be happier here. See now, when I sleep safe at
+night, I shall say, &#8216;It was Sacajawea showed me the way. We did not go
+astray&mdash;we went straight.&#8217; We will not forget who led us.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But,&#8221; she still expostulated, looking up at him, &#8220;how can you cook?
+How can you make the lodge? One woman&mdash;she must help all time.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A spasm of pain crossed Lewis&#8217;s face.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sacajawea,&#8221; said he, &#8220;I told you that I had made medicine&mdash;that I had
+promised my dream never to have a lodge of my own. Always I shall live
+upon the trail&mdash;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&mdash;the daughter of a
+chief, the sister of a chief, a great person; you know about a
+warrior&#8217;s medicine. Surely, then, you know that no one is allowed to
+ask about the vows of a chief!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;By and by,&#8221; he added gently, &#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The unwonted tears of an Indian woman were in the eyes which looked up
+at him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ah!&#8221; said she, in reproach. &#8220;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&mdash;you no need me now! You say
+to me, your people are not my people&mdash;you not need Sacajawea any
+more!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The Indian has no word for good-by. The faithful&mdash;nay, loving&mdash;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&#8217;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&mdash;back over the trail they had blazed
+for their fellows!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>Capitaine, Capitaine</i>, look what I&#8217;ll found!&#8221;</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>&#8220;What is it, Cruzatte?&#8221; 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>&#8220;Ouch, by gar! She&#8217;ll bite me with his tail. She&#8217;s hot!&#8221;</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>&#8220;Why did you kill it, Cruzatte?&#8221; he asked. &#8220;It was on its errand.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He turned to his friend who sat near, at the other side.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Will,&#8221; he said, &#8220;our expedition has succeeded. Here is the proof of
+it. The bee is following our path. They are coming!&#8221;</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&#8217;s case&mdash;the first bee of the plains.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They are coming!&#8221; 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&#8217;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>&#8220;Hoh!&#8221; 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>&#8220;Hoh!&#8221; 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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;he was long and straight in his blankets, and filled them
+well&mdash;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>&#8220;Shannon!&#8221; He heard a hoarse voice command him. &#8220;Get up!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>George Shannon, the youngest of the party, sprang out of his bed half
+clad.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Captain!&#8221; He saluted again. &#8220;What is it, sir?&#8221; he half whispered, as
+if in apprehension.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Put on your jacket, Shannon. Come with me!&#8221;</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>&#8220;What is it, Captain?&#8221; he inquired once more.</p>
+
+<p>They were apart from the others now, in the shadows beyond Lewis&#8217;s
+fire. Shannon had caught sight of his leader&#8217;s countenance, noting the
+wildness of its look, its drawn and haggard lines.</p>
+
+<p>His commander&#8217;s hand thrust in his face a clutch of papers,
+folded&mdash;letters, they seemed to be. Shannon could see the trembling of
+the hand that held them.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You know what I want, Shannon! I want the rest of these&mdash;I want the
+last one of them! Give it to me now!&#8221;</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>&#8220;Five of them!&#8221; he heard the same hoarse voice go on. &#8220;There must be
+another&mdash;there must be one more, at least. You have done this&mdash;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&#8217;t you
+answer?&#8221; With sudden and violent strength Lewis shook the boy as a dog
+might a rat. &#8220;Answer me!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Captain, I cannot!&#8221; broke out Shannon.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What? Then there is another?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll not answer! I&#8217;ll stand my trial before court martial, if you
+please.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Again the heavy hand on his shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There will be no trial!&#8221; he heard the hoarse voice of his commander
+saying. &#8220;I cannot sleep. I must have the last one. There is another!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Shannon laid a hand on the iron wrist.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How do you know?&#8221; he faltered. &#8220;Why do you think&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;by what plan&mdash;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&mdash;love songs&mdash;you write letters&mdash;love letters,
+perhaps! You are Irish&mdash;you have sentiment. There is romance about
+you&mdash;<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>&#8220;Give me that letter! I am your officer.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Captain, I will not!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I&#8217;ll not be driven to it. You say I&#8217;m Irish. I am&mdash;I&#8217;ll not give
+up a woman&#8217;s secret&mdash;it&#8217;s a question of honor, Captain. There is a
+woman concerned, as you know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&#8217;ll not answer!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The hand closed at his throat. The boy could not speak, but still
+Meriwether Lewis growled on at him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Shannon! Speak! Why have you kept secrets from your commanding
+officer? You have begun to tell me&mdash;tell me all!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The boy&#8217;s hand clutched at his leader&#8217;s wrists. At length Lewis loosed
+him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Captain,&#8221; began the victim, &#8220;what do you mean? What can I do?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I will tell you what I mean, Shannon. I promised to care for you and
+bring you back safe to your parents. You&#8217;ll never see your parents
+again, save on one condition. I trusted you, thought you had special
+loyalty for me. Was I wrong?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;On my honor, Captain,&#8221; the boy broke out, &#8220;I&#8217;d have died for you any
+time, and I&#8217;d do it now! I&#8217;ve worked my very best. You&#8217;re my officer,
+my chief!&#8221;</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>&#8220;Shannon,&#8221; said Lewis, &#8220;I&#8217;m not your officer now. I&#8217;m going to choke
+the truth out of you. Will you fight me, or are you afraid?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The last cruelty was too much. The boy began to gulp.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m not afraid to fight, sir. I&#8217;d fight any man, but you&mdash;no, I&#8217;ll
+not do it! Even stripped, you&#8217;re my commander still.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is that the reason?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not all of it. You&#8217;re weak, Captain, your wound has you in a fever.
+&#8217;Twould not be fair&mdash;I could do as I liked with you now. I&#8217;ll not
+fight you. I couldn&#8217;t!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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!&#8221;</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>&#8220;What is it, boy?&#8221; he whispered at last. &#8220;What have I done? What did I
+say?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Shannon was sobbing now.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Captain,&#8221; 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&mdash;&#8220;Captain, for Heaven&#8217;s sake, don&#8217;t do that! Don&#8217;t apologize to
+me. I understand. Leave me alone. Here&#8217;s the letter. There were
+six&mdash;this is the last.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Lewis&#8217;s strained muscles relaxed, his blazing eyes softened.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Shannon!&#8221; he whispered once more. &#8220;What have I done?&#8221;</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>&#8220;Why do you give it to me now, boy?&#8221; he asked at length. &#8220;What changed
+you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Because it&#8217;s orders, sir. She ordered me&mdash;that is, she asked me&mdash;to
+give you these letters at times when you seemed to need them
+most&mdash;when you were sick or in trouble, when anything had gone wrong.
+We couldn&#8217;t figure so far on ahead when I ought to give you each one.
+I had to do my best. I didn&#8217;t know at first, but now I see that you&#8217;re
+sick. You&#8217;re not yourself&mdash;you&#8217;re in trouble. She told me not to let
+you know who carried them,&#8221; he added rather inconsequently. &#8220;She said
+that that might end it all. She thought that you might come back.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Come back&mdash;when?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She didn&#8217;t know&mdash;we couldn&#8217;t any of us tell&mdash;it was all a guess. All
+this about the letters was left to me, to do my best. I couldn&#8217;t ask
+you, Captain, or any one. I don&#8217;t know what was in the letters, sir,
+and I don&#8217;t ask you, for that&#8217;s not my business; but I promised her.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What did she promise you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Nothing. She didn&#8217;t promise me pay, because she knew I wouldn&#8217;t have
+done it for pay. She only looked at me, and she seemed sad, I don&#8217;t
+know why. I couldn&#8217;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;When was all this?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I know, Shannon.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&#8217;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, Shannon. No! In all this there is but one to blame, and that is
+your officer, myself!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;more a
+lady, somehow. Of course, I&#8217;m not an officer or a gentleman&mdash;I&#8217;m only
+a boy from the backwoods, and only a private soldier. I couldn&#8217;t break
+my promise to her, and I couldn&#8217;t very well obey your orders unless I
+did. If I&#8217;ve broken any of the regulations you can punish me. You see,
+I held back this letter&mdash;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&mdash;that she would want me to. It is the fever,
+sir!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Aye, the fever!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Silence fell as they stood there in the night. The boy went on, half
+tremblingly:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Please, please, Captain Lewis, don&#8217;t call me a coward! I don&#8217;t
+believe I am. I was trying to do something for you&mdash;for both of you.
+It was always on my mind about these letters. I did my best and
+now&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And now it was the eye of Meriwether Lewis that suddenly was wet; it
+was his voice that trembled.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Boy,&#8221; said he, &#8220;I am your officer. Your officer asks your pardon. I
+have tried myself. I was guilty. Will you forget this?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not a word to a soul in the world, Captain!&#8221; broke out Shannon.
+&#8220;About a woman, you see, we do not talk.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, Mr. Shannon, about a woman we gentlemen do not talk. But now tell
+me, boy, what can I do for you&mdash;what can I ever do for you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nothing in the world, Captain&mdash;but just one thing.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What is it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Please, sir, tell me that you don&#8217;t think me a coward!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A coward? No, Shannon, you are the bravest fellow I ever met!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The hand on the boy&#8217;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&mdash;the madness of absence <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span>and
+of remorse&mdash;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&#8217;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;which you loved more than fame
+or fortune, honor or glory for yourself. The wilderness! It
+holds you. And for me&mdash;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&mdash;that you never can come
+back&mdash;how then could I go on?</p>
+
+<p>Meriwether&mdash;Merne&mdash;Merne&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;to one who never
+was and never can be, but <i>is</i>&mdash;&mdash;</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&mdash;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&mdash;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>&#8220;Run, boys!&#8221; cried Pierre Chouteau to his servants. &#8220;Call out the
+people! Tell them to ring the bells&mdash;tell them to fire the guns at the
+fort yonder. Captains Lewis and Clark have come back again&mdash;those who
+were dead!&#8221;</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&mdash;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&mdash;Lewis and Clark, the two friends who
+had arisen as if from the grave!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Present arms!&#8221; 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>&#8220;Aim! Fire!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The volley of salutation blazed out even with the chorus of the
+voyageurs&#8217; 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>&#8220;Come with me!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, with me!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;With me!&#8221;</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&mdash;ejaculations, exclamations.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>Ma foi!</i>&#8221; exclaimed more than one pretty French maiden. &#8220;Such
+men&mdash;such splendid men&mdash;savages, yet white! See! See!&#8221;</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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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>&#8220;My matches&mdash;my thermometers&mdash;my instruments&mdash;how did they perform?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The speaker was Dr. Saugrain, eager to meet again his friends.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Perfect, doctor, perfect! We have some of the matches yet. As to the
+thermometers, we broke the last one before we reached the sea.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You found the sea? <i>Mon Dieu!</i>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We found the Pacific. We found the Columbia, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span>the Yellowstone&mdash;many
+new rivers. We have found a new continent&mdash;made a new geography. We
+passed the head of the Missouri. We found three great mountain
+ranges.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The beaver&mdash;did you find the beaver yonder?&#8221; 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>&#8220;Beaver?&#8221; William Clark waved a hand. &#8220;How many I could not tell you!
+Thousands and millions&mdash;more beaver than ever were known in the world
+before. Millions of buffalo&mdash;elk in droves&mdash;bears such as you never
+saw&mdash;antelope, great horned sheep, otters, muskrat, mink&mdash;the greatest
+fur country in all the world. We could not tell you half!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Your men, will they be free to make return up the river with trading
+parties?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>William Clark smiled at the keenness of the old French trader.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You could not possibly have better men,&#8221; 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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;in
+short, a new world. How could they tell of it?</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Captain,&#8221; inquired Chouteau at length, &#8220;your luggage, your
+boxes&mdash;where are they?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Meriwether Lewis pointed to a skin parfleche and a knotted bandanna
+handkerchief which George Shannon carried for him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That is all I have left,&#8221; said he. &#8220;But the mail for the East&mdash;the
+mail, M. Chouteau&mdash;we must get word to the President!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The President has long ago been advised of your death,&#8221; said
+Chouteau, laughing. &#8220;All the world has said good-by to you. No doubt
+you can read your own obituaries.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We bring them better news than that. What news for us?&#8221; asked the two
+captains of their host.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;News!&#8221; The voluble Frenchman threw up his hands. &#8220;Nothing but news!
+The entire world is changed since you left. I could not tell you in a
+month. The Burr duel&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, we did not know of it for two years,&#8221; said William Clark. &#8220;We
+have just heard about it, up river.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The killing of Mr. Hamilton ended the career of Colonel Burr,&#8221; said
+Chouteau. &#8220;But for that we might have different times here in
+Mississippi. He had many friends. But you have heard the last news
+regarding him?&#8221;</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>&#8220;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&mdash;his trial is to be at Richmond. Even now it may be
+going on.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He did not notice the sudden change in Meriwether Lewis&#8217;s face.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And all the world is swimming in blood across the sea,&#8221; went on their
+garrulous informant. &#8220;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&mdash;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hold with the theory of Colonel Burr, sir?&#8221; exclaimed the deep voice
+of Meriwether Lewis. &#8220;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He had many friends,&#8221; went on Chouteau; &#8220;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&mdash;men who will not
+give up their cause. All those men needed was a leader.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But, M. Chouteau,&#8221; rejoined Lewis, &#8220;I do not understand&mdash;I cannot!
+What Colonel Burr attempted was an actual treason to this republic. I
+find it difficult to believe that!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Chouteau shrugged his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There may be two names for it,&#8221; he said.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And every one asked to join the cause was asked to join in treason to
+his country. Is it not so?&#8221; Lewis went on.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There may be two names for it,&#8221; smiled the other, still shrugging.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He was my friend,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis. &#8220;I trusted him!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Always, I repeat, there are two names for treason. But what puzzles
+me is this,&#8221; Chouteau continued. &#8220;What halted the cause of Colonel
+Burr here in the West? He seemed to be upon the point of success. His
+organization was complete&mdash;his men were in New Orleans&mdash;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&mdash;nothing! Why? At the last point something failed&mdash;no
+one knew what. He waited for something&mdash;no one knew what. Something
+lacked&mdash;no one can tell what. And all the time&mdash;this is most curious
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span>to me&mdash;I learned it through others&mdash;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The captain did not speak, and Chouteau presently went on.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why did Colonel Burr hesitate, why did he give up his plans
+here&mdash;why, indeed, did he fail? You ask me why these things were? I
+say, it was because of you&mdash;<i>messieurs</i>, you two young men, with your
+Lewis and Clark Expedition! It was <i>you</i> who broke the Burr
+Conspiracy&mdash;for so they call it in these days. <i>Messieurs</i>, that is
+your news!&#8221;</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;">&#8220;</p><p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">A</span>ttention, men!&#8221;</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&mdash;these things showed in the
+faces of his men as their eyes turned to him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Men,&#8221; said he, &#8220;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>&#8220;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>&#8220;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.&#8221;</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&#8217;s voice rang sharp and clear.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Attention! Aim&mdash;fire! Break ranks&mdash;march!&#8221;</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 f&ecirc;ted
+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 f&ecirc;ted 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&mdash;the one for Maria Woods; another for
+Judith Hancock&mdash;the Maria&#8217;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&mdash;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>&#8220;My son!&#8221; said she at length, half as much in terror as in joy.
+&#8220;Merne!&#8221;</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>&#8220;My son!&#8221; was all she could say. &#8220;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;then, back home again to talk with you, for long, long
+hours.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And what have you found?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;More than I can tell you in a year! We found the mysterious river,
+the Columbia&mdash;found where it runs into the ocean, where it starts in
+the mountains. We found the head of the Missouri&mdash;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&mdash;and we made it ours!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You should be, Merne, but are you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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,&#8221; he demanded, turning and stretching
+out his mighty arms. &#8220;I am strong. My men all came through without
+loss or injury&mdash;the splendid fellows! It is wonderful that in risks
+such as ours we met with no ill fortune.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, but are you happy? Turn your face to me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>But he did not turn his face.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I told my friend, William Clark,&#8221; he said lightly, as he rose, &#8220;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&mdash;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.&#8221;</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&mdash;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&#8217;s office door&mdash;flinging it open, as he did so, with
+the freedom of his old habit&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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>&#8220;I could hardly wait for you!&#8221; said Mr. Jefferson. He began to pace up
+and down. &#8220;I knew it, I knew it!&#8221; he exclaimed. &#8220;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He came up and placed a half playful hand on Meriwether Lewis&#8217;s
+shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Did I know men, then?&#8221; he demanded.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And did I, Mr. Jefferson? Captain Clark&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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!&#8221;</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&mdash;they were to work together yonder in St.
+Louis!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Governor&mdash;General&mdash;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!&#8221;</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&#8217;S ADVICE</h3>
+
+<p style="float: left; font-size: 100%; line-height: 80%; margin-top: 0;">&#8220;</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,&#8221; said Thomas Jefferson, when at length they two were
+alone once more in the little office, &#8220;I cannot say what your return
+means to me. You come as one from the grave&mdash;you resurrect another
+from the grave.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Meaning, Mr. Jefferson?&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I heard some talk in the West, Mr. Jefferson,&#8221; hesitated Meriwether
+Lewis.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We are glad that you have been pleased, Mr. Jefferson,&#8221; said Lewis
+simply.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Pleased! Pleased! Say rather that I am saved! Say rather that this
+country is saved! Had you proved disloyal to me&mdash;had you for any cause
+turned back,&#8221; he went on, &#8220;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&mdash;suppose you had not gotten beyond the Mandans&mdash;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!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And I nearly did, Mr. Jefferson!&#8221; broke out Meriwether <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span>Lewis. &#8220;Do
+not praise me too much. I was tempted&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The old man turned toward him, his face grave.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are honest! I value that above all in you&mdash;you are punctilious to
+have no praise not honestly won. Listen, now!&#8221; He leaned toward the
+young man, who sat beside him. &#8220;I know&mdash;I knew all along&mdash;how you were
+tempted. She came here&mdash;Theodosia&mdash;the very day you left!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Lewis nodded, mute.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;In some way, I knew, the conspirators fought against your success and
+mine. I knew what agencies they intended to use against you&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;your
+personal honor&mdash;that was what brought us success. No country is bigger
+than the personal honor of its gentlemen.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The bowed head of Meriwether Lewis was his only answer. The keen-faced
+old man went on:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I knew that before you had left the mouth of the Ohio River he would
+do his best to stop you&mdash;I knew it before you had left Harper&#8217;s Ferry;
+but I placed the issue in the lap of the gods. I applied to you all
+the tests&mdash;the severest tests&mdash;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&mdash;all those new thousands of miles of land&mdash;<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>&#8220;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.&#8221;</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>&#8220;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&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Jefferson!&#8221; The young man before him lifted a hand. His face was
+ghastly pale. &#8220;Do not,&#8221; said he. &#8220;Do not, I beg of you!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What is it, Merne?&#8221; exclaimed the old man. &#8220;What have I done?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You speak of my honor. Do not! Indeed, you touch me deep.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Thomas Jefferson, wise old man, raised a hand.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I shall never listen, my son,&#8221; said he. &#8220;I will accord to you the
+right of hot blood to run hot&mdash;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&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Jefferson, I shall never marry.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The two sat looking into each other&#8217;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>&#8220;So! You have come back with all happiness, all success, for me and
+for others&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;the honor of that
+little paper&mdash;bah, they are nothing! But perhaps it may be something
+for you to know that at least one friend understands.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Lewis did not speak.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What is lost is lost,&#8221; the President began again after a time. &#8220;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The smile that came upon the young man&#8217;s face was a beautiful, a
+wonderful thing to see. It made the wise old man sad to see it&mdash;but
+thoughtful, too.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She is at Richmond, Merne?&#8221; said Mr. Jefferson a moment later.</p>
+
+<p>The young man nodded.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And the greatest boon she could ask would be her father&#8217;s
+freedom&mdash;the freedom of the man who sought to ruin this country&mdash;the
+man whom I scarcely dare release.&#8221;</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&mdash;it was but in thought.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now, then,&#8221; said Thomas Jefferson sharply, &#8220;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&mdash;but <i>not for his daughter</i>!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Jefferson!&#8221; The face of Meriwether Lewis was strangely moved. &#8220;I
+see the actual greatness of your soul; but I ask nothing.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&#8217;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&mdash;and king of the greatest empire of all the world! I know well
+who assured that kingdom. Let me be, then&#8221;&mdash;he raised his long
+hand&mdash;&#8220;say nothing, do nothing. And let this end all talk between us
+of these matters. I know you can keep your own counsel.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Lewis bowed silently.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;John
+Randolph is foreman of that jury. It is there that case will be
+tried&mdash;in the jury room; and <i>politics will try it</i>! Go to Theodosia,
+Merne, in her desperate need.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But what can I do, Mr. Jefferson?&#8221; broke out his listener.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do precisely what I tell you. Go to that social outcast. Take her on
+your arm before all the world&mdash;<i>and before that jury</i>! Sit there,
+before all Richmond&mdash;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,&#8221;
+the President concluded, &#8220;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!&#8221;</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&mdash;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&#8217;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&#8217;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&#8217;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>&#8220;Governor, I am delighted to see you, back safe and sound from your
+journey. My congratulations, sir!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Meriwether Lewis made no reply, but gazed at him steadily, well aware
+of the stinging sarcasm of his words.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have few friends now,&#8221; said Aaron Burr. &#8220;You have many. You are on
+the flood tide&mdash;it ebbs for me. When one loses, what mercy is shown to
+him? That scoundrel Merry&mdash;he promised everything and gave nothing!
+Yrujo&mdash;he is worse yet in his treachery. Even the French minister,
+Turreau&mdash;who surely might listen to the wishes of the great French
+population of the Mississippi Valley&mdash;pays no attention to their
+petitions whatever, and none to mine. These were my former friends! I
+promised them a country.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You promised them a country, Colonel Burr&mdash;from what?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;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&mdash;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&mdash;which once he
+was so ready to furnish to us. But Mr. Alston is ruined&mdash;I am
+ruined&mdash;we are all ruined. No, they waited too long!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They waited until it was too late, yes,&#8221; Lewis returned. &#8220;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&mdash;but
+it was hopeless from the first!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It would seem, sir,&#8221; said Aaron Burr, a cynical smile twisting his
+thin lip, &#8220;that I may not count upon your friendship!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That is a hard speech, Colonel Burr. I was your friend.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;More than your chief ever was! I fancy Mr. Jefferson would like to
+see me pilloried, drawn and quartered, after the old way.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are unjust to him. You struck at the greatest ambition of his
+life&mdash;struck at his heart and the heart of his country&mdash;when you
+undertook to separate the West from this republic.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am a plain man, and a busy man,&#8221; said Aaron Burr coldly. &#8220;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&mdash;what suffering&mdash;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!&#8221;</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&mdash;a figure which caused him to halt, caused
+his heart to leap!</p>
+
+<p>She came toward him now, all in mourning black&mdash;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&#8217;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;this had
+been his shield through all. What he saw in her grave face, her
+mournful eyes uplifted to his own&mdash;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&mdash;what? A tall and handsome gentleman, immaculately clad,
+Governor of the newest of our Territories&mdash;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>&#8220;Yea! Yea! Now I know!&#8221;</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&mdash;even if, as both knew in
+their supreme renunciation, they must part and never meet again&mdash;for
+them both there could be peaceful calm, with all life&#8217;s questions
+answered, beautifully and surely answered, never again to rise for
+conquering.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sir&mdash;Captain&mdash;that is to say, Governor Lewis,&#8221; she corrected herself,
+&#8220;I was not expecting you.&#8221;</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&mdash;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&mdash;in their silence&mdash;could they speak. They did
+not know that they stood hand in hand.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My husband is not here,&#8221; said she at length, gently disengaging her
+hand from his. &#8220;No one knows me now, every one avoids me. You must not
+be seen with me&mdash;a pariah, an outcast! I am my father&#8217;s only friend.
+Already they condemn him; yet he is as innocent as any man ever was.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I shall say no word to change that belief,&#8221; said <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span>Meriwether Lewis.
+&#8220;But your husband is not here? It is he whom I must see at once.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why must you see him?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You must know! It is my duty to go to him and to tell him that I am
+the man who&mdash;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&mdash;I shall not ask you to forgive me&mdash;I will
+not be so cheap.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But&mdash;<i>suppose he does not know</i>?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He could only stand silent, regarding her fixedly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He must never know!&#8221; she went on. &#8220;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&mdash;let it bury
+its own dead!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is our time of reckoning,&#8221; said he, at length. &#8220;Guilty as I have
+been, sinning as I have sinned&mdash;tell me, was I alone in the wrong?
+Listen. Those who joined your father&#8217;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?&#8221;</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>&#8220;I shall not answer that!&#8221; said she.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No!&#8221; he exclaimed, swiftly contrite. &#8220;Nor shall I ask it. Forgive me!
+You never knew&mdash;you were innocent. You do right not to answer such a
+question.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;I only wanted you to be happy&mdash;that was my one desire.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She looked aside, and a moment passed before she heard his deep voice
+reply.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Happy! I am the most unhappy man in all the world. Happiness?
+No&mdash;rags, shreds, patches of happiness&mdash;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>My father&#8217;s freedom!</i>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I cannot promise that; but all that I can do I will.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Were my father guilty, that would be the act of a noble mind. But
+how? You are Mr. Jefferson&#8217;s friend, not the friend of Aaron Burr. All
+the world knows that.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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!&#8221;<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>&#8220;That is impossible. What do you mean?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&mdash;give your presence to one who is now a social pariah? The ladies
+of Richmond no longer speak to me. But to what purpose?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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>&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>Ergo</i>, Mr. Jefferson is not hostile to us! And you would do
+that&mdash;you would take that chance?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;For you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And he did&mdash;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&mdash;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&#8217;s
+best friend walked in public, before all the world, with the daughter
+of the President&#8217;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&mdash;and of John Randolph of Roanoke, its foreman&mdash;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&#8217;s friend, and the daughter of the great conspirator, Aaron
+Burr. <i>Ergo, ergo</i>, said many tongues swiftly&mdash;and leaned head to head
+to whisper it. Mind sometimes speaks to mind&mdash;even across the rail of
+a jury-box. Sympathy runs deep and swift sometimes. All the world
+loved Meriwether Lewis then, would favor him&mdash;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>&#8220;How mighty a thing is a man&#8217;s sense of honor!&#8221; she said slowly. &#8220;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&mdash;all your debt
+to me and mine. See, I no longer weep. You have dried my tears!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We cannot balance debits and credits,&#8221; he replied. &#8220;There is no way
+in the world in which you and I can cry quits. Only one thing is
+sure&mdash;I must go!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I cannot say good-by!&#8221; said she. &#8220;Ah, do not ask me that! We are but
+beginning now. Oh, see! see!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He looked at her still, an unspeakable sadness in his gaze&mdash;at her
+hand, extended pleadingly toward him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Won&#8217;t you take my hand, Merne?&#8221; said she. &#8220;Won&#8217;t you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I dare not,&#8221; said he hoarsely. &#8220;No, I dare not!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why? Do you wish to leave me still feeling that I am in your debt?
+You can afford so much now,&#8221; she said brokenly, &#8220;for those who have
+not won!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Think you that I have won?&#8221; he broke out. &#8220;Theodosia&mdash;Theo&mdash;I shall
+call you by your old name just once&mdash;I do not take your hand&mdash;I dare
+not touch you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span>&mdash;because I love you! I always shall. God help me, it is
+the truth!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Did you get my letters?&#8221; 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>&#8220;<i>Letters?</i>&#8221; said he at length. &#8220;<i>What letters?</i>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes looked up at him luminously.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are glorious!&#8221; said she. &#8220;Yes, a woman&#8217;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!&#8221;</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&mdash;they loved him as Governor, since they might not as man.
+Wise, firm, deliberate, kind, sad&mdash;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&#8217;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&mdash;the last
+time&mdash;the great heart of a noble man was pierced.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Will,&#8221; said he to his friend, as they met at William Clark&#8217;s home,
+according to their frequent custom, &#8220;I am in trouble.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Fancied trouble, Merne,&#8221; said Clark. &#8220;You&#8217;re always finding it!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&#8221;&mdash;he held out certain papers
+in his hand&mdash;&#8220;by this morning&#8217;s mail I get back these bills
+protested&mdash;protested by the government at Washington! And they are
+bills that I have drawn to pay the expenses of administering my office
+here.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Tut, tut!&#8221; said William Clark gravely. &#8220;Come, let us see.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;I am a broken man! Did you think that this country could do
+that for either of us?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But Merne, you, the soul of honor&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;also protested, I have no doubt. I am publicly discredited,
+disgraced. I know not what has been said of me at Washington.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That is the trouble,&#8221; said William Clark slowly. &#8220;Washington is so
+far. But now, you must not let this trouble you. &#8217;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&mdash;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&mdash;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. &#8217;Twill all come well!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>This was in the year 1809. Mr. Jefferson&#8217;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>&#8220;You are ill, Governor&mdash;you have the fever of these lands,&#8221; urged that
+worthy. &#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Peria,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis to his French servant and attendant,
+&#8220;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&mdash;three or four hundred dollars, I imagine. I will take some in my
+belt, and give the rest to you for the saddle-trunk.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Your Excellency plans to go by land, then, and not by sea?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I do not know. I must save all the time possible. And Peria&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, Excellency.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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,&#8221; he concluded. &#8220;It was given to me by a friend&mdash;a
+good friend, Mr. Wirt, and I prize it very much&mdash;so much that I fear
+to have it on my person. Care for it in the saddle-trunk.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, Excellency.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do not call me &#8216;Excellency&#8217;&mdash;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.&#8221;</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>&#8220;These papers for Mr. Jefferson, Governor&mdash;certain land-titles, of
+which we spoke to him last year. Do you not remember?&#8221; Thus Chouteau,
+always busy with affairs.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;These samples of cloth and of satin, Governor,&#8221; said a dark-eyed
+French girl, smiling up at him. &#8220;Would you match them for me in the
+East? I am to be married in the spring!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The price of furs&mdash;learn of that, Governor, if you can, while on your
+journey. The embargo has ruined the trade in all this inland country!&#8221;
+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>&#8220;Books, more books, my son!&#8221; implored Dr. Saugrain. &#8220;We are growing
+here&mdash;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&mdash;the fever has you!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My people&mdash;they mourn for me as dead,&#8221; 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. &#8220;Tell the Great Father that he
+must send me soldiers to take me back home to my people. My heart is
+poor!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Governor, see if you can get me an artificial limb of some sort while
+you are in the East.&#8221;</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&mdash;though later, as has
+already been said, he was to become a noted figure at the bar of the
+State of Kentucky.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes! Yes, and yes!&#8221; Their leader, punctilious as he was kind, agreed
+to all these commissions&mdash;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&mdash;a tall man
+with wide mouth and sunny hair, with blue eye and stalwart
+frame&mdash;William Clark&mdash;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&#8217;s
+arms and pressed the child&#8217;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>&#8220;Good-by, Will!&#8221; 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&#8217;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&#8217;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>&#8220;Governor Lewis!&#8221; exclaimed Major Neely, as he met him. &#8220;You are ill!
+You are in an ague!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;I am resolved not to go by sea. I
+have not time.&#8221;</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>&#8220;Major,&#8221; said he, &#8220;I can ride now. Have you horses for the journey?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Are you sure, Governor, that your strength is sufficient?&#8221; 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>&#8220;It is not a question of my personal convenience, Major,&#8221; said
+Meriwether Lewis. &#8220;Time presses for me. I must go on!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;At least you shall not go alone,&#8221; said Major Neely. &#8220;You should have
+some escort. Doubtless you have important papers?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Meriwether Lewis nodded.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My servant has arranged everything, I fancy. Can you get an extra man
+or two? The Natchez Trace is none too safe.&#8221;</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>&#8220;He talks to himself all the time,&#8221; said one of the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span>party&mdash;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&#8217;s craft all the way down the river&mdash;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>&#8220;What is wrong with the Governor, think you?&#8221; inquired this man once
+more of Peria, Lewis&#8217;s servant.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is his way,&#8221; shrugged Peria. &#8220;We leave him alone. His hand is
+heavy when he is angry.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He rides always with his rifle across his saddle?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Always, on the trail.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Loaded, I presume&mdash;and his pistols?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You may well suppose that,&#8221; said Peria.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, well,&#8221; said the new member of the party, &#8220;&#8217;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Naturally,&#8221; 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>&#8220;Now it&#8217;s an odd thing about his coat,&#8221; volunteered the stranger later
+in that same day. &#8220;He always keeps it on&mdash;that ragged old uniform. Was
+it a uniform, do you believe? Can&#8217;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&#8217;s a dozen years old,
+you might say.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He always wears it on the trail,&#8221; said Peria. &#8220;At home he watches it
+as if it held some treasure.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Treasure?&#8221; The shifty eyes of the new man flashed in sudden interest.
+&#8220;What treasure? Papers, perhaps&mdash;bills&mdash;documents&mdash;money? His pocket
+bulges at the side. Something there&mdash;yes, eh?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hush!&#8221; said Peria. &#8220;You do not know that man, the Governor. He has
+the eye of a hawk, the ear of a fox&mdash;you can keep nothing from him. He
+fears nothing in the world, and in his moods&mdash;you&#8217;d best leave him
+alone. Don&#8217;t let him suspect, or&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; 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>&#8220;I have told you to be more careful, Peria,&#8221; expostulated Governor
+Lewis. &#8220;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And what of you, Governor?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The first white man&#8217;s house beyond here,&#8221; answered Neely, &#8220;belongs to
+an old man named Grinder. &#8217;Tis no more than a few miles ahead. Suppose
+we join you there?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Agreed,&#8221; 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&mdash;Mrs. Grinder, she announced herself.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Madam,&#8221; he inquired, &#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My husband is not here,&#8221; said the woman. &#8220;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A half-dozen, with an extra horse or two.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I reckon we can fix ye up. Light down and come in.&#8221;</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&mdash;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&mdash;and she neither knew nor asked, for the
+wilderness tavern held no register, and few questions were asked or
+answered&mdash;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>&#8220;Set up and eat,&#8221; she said at last. &#8220;I reckon your men are not
+coming.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I thank you, Madam,&#8221; said the stranger, with gentle courtesy. &#8220;Do not
+let me trouble you too much. I have been ill of late, and do not as
+yet experience much hunger.&#8221;</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>&#8220;Is it not a beautiful world, Madam?&#8221; said he, after a time, in a
+voice of great gentleness and charm. &#8220;I have seen the forest often
+thus in the West in the evening, when the day was done. It is
+wonderful!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes. Some of my folks is thinking of going out further into the
+West.&#8221;</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>&#8220;A wonderful country, Madam!&#8221; 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>&#8220;It is not necessary,&#8221; said he. &#8220;I have slept so much in the open that
+&#8217;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Peria, it seemed, had by this time found his way to the cabin along
+the trail. He was alone.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Come, man!&#8221; said Lewis. &#8220;Make down my bed for me&mdash;I am ill. And tell
+me, where is my powder? Where are the bullets for my pistols? I find
+them empty. Haven&#8217;t I told you to be more careful about these things?
+And where is my rifle-powder? The canister is here, but &#8217;tis empty.
+Come, come, I must have better service than this!&#8221;</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>&#8220;I must have a place to write,&#8221; said he at length. &#8220;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?&#8221;</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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;nay, indeed, as if he saw some one&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;something about the sound of water. He lifted his
+head and listened. Yes, there was a sound coming faintly through the
+night&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;and his
+fingers were dark.</p>
+
+<p>He was bleeding from three wounds; but still he stood and spoke to
+her.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;In God&#8217;s name, Madam,&#8221; said he, &#8220;bring me water! I am killed!&#8221;</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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;some things which
+no other eyes than his must ever see! Here was a secret&mdash;it must
+always be a secret&mdash;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&mdash;six
+times in all! One by one he had placed them on the flames&mdash;these
+letters that he had carried on his heart for years&mdash;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&mdash;<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&#8217;s
+voice. What was it that she said? He bent his head as if to listen.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Your wish&mdash;your great desire&mdash;your hope&mdash;your dream&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>So then she had known&mdash;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&mdash;he had so greatly desired&mdash;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&mdash;stained as they were with blood that dropped from his veins as
+he bent above them&mdash;carried them down upon the tiny thread of the
+little brook. It carried them away toward the sea&mdash;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>&#8220;In God&#8217;s name, Madam,&#8221; said he, &#8220;bring me water&mdash;wine! I am so
+strong, I am hard to die! Bind up my wounds&mdash;I have work to do! Heal
+me these wounds!&#8221;</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>&#8220;Peria,&#8221; said Meriwether Lewis, turning his fading eye on the man, &#8220;do
+not fear me. I will not hurt you. But my watch&mdash;I cannot find it&mdash;it
+seems gone. I am hard to die, it seems. But the little watch&mdash;it
+had&mdash;a&mdash;picture&mdash;Ah!&#8221;</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>&#8220;Your son was a brave man&mdash;he lived long,&#8221; said Peria, haltingly, at
+the close of his story.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; said the mother of Meriwether Lewis. &#8220;He was a brave man. He
+was strong!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He was unhappy; but why he should have killed himself&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Stop!&#8221; The dark eyes blazed upon him. &#8220;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!&#8221;</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&mdash;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>&#8220;Madam,&#8221; said he, when finally he stood at the side of the mistress of
+Locust Hall, &#8220;it is heavy news I thought to bring&mdash;I see that you have
+heard it. What shall I say&mdash;what can we say to each other? I mourn him
+as if he were my own son.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It has come at last,&#8221; said the mother of Meriwether Lewis. &#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Whom had he ever harmed?&#8221; she demanded of Jefferson.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&mdash;bear with me if I tell you that
+could your son send out the news himself, perhaps he might say &#8217;twas
+by his own hand he perished, and not by that of another!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Never, Mr. Jefferson, never will I believe that! It was not in his
+nature!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;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?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He never wronged a woman in his life&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Precisely, nor in his death would he wrong one! Do you begin to see?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Did he ever speak to you of her?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But shall I let that stain rest on his name?&#8221; The dark eye of the old
+woman gleamed upon her son&#8217;s friend.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do not I love him also? I am speaking now only of his own wish&mdash;not
+ours. I know that he would shield her at any cost&mdash;nay, I know he did
+shield her at any cost. May not we shield him&mdash;and her&mdash;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&mdash;and who shall tell the exact truth?&mdash;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Jefferson was silent for a moment, holding the bereaved mother&#8217;s hand
+in his own.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He shall have a monument, madam,&#8221; he went on. &#8220;It shall mark his
+grave in yonder wilderness. They shall name at least a county for him,
+and hold it his sacred grave-place&mdash;there in Tennessee, by the old
+Indian road. Let him lie there under the trees&mdash;that is as he would
+wish. He shall have some monument&mdash;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.&#8221;</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&mdash;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&#8217;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>&#8220;I hope to be happy in the next world, for I have not been
+bad in this.&#8221;</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&#8217;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;while our sons measure to the stature of
+such a man.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+
+<div class="centerbox2 bbox">
+
+<p class="center">
+&#8220;<i>The Books You Like to Read</i><br />
+<i>at the Price You Like to Pay</i>&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr class="largest" />
+
+<h2>There Are Two Sides<br />
+to Everything&mdash;</h2>
+
+<p>&mdash;including the wrapper which covers
+every Grosset &amp; 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 &amp; Dunlap book wrapper.<br />
+<br />
+You will find more than five hundred
+titles to choose from&mdash;books for every
+mood and every taste and every pocket-book.<br />
+<br />
+<i>Don&#8217;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 &amp; 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">&nbsp;</div>
+
+<h3>EMERSON HOUGH&#8217;S NOVELS</h3>
+
+<div class="double">&nbsp;</div>
+
+<p>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset &amp; Dunlap&#8217;s list.</p>
+
+<div class="double">&nbsp;</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&#8217;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&#8217;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">&nbsp;</div>
+
+<h4>GROSSET &amp; DUNLAP, <span class="smcap">Publishers</span>, NEW YORK</h4>
+
+<div class="double3">&nbsp;</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>&#8220;Thomas Jefferson asks the favor of Mr. Merry to dine with a small
+party of friends on Monday, the 13th, at half past three.&#8221;</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>&#8220;If Mr. Merry should be mistaken as to the meaning of Mr. Jefferson&#8217;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&#8217;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&#8217;s ministers.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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.&#8221;</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>&#8220;Mr. Madison presents his compliments to Mr. Merry. He has
+communicated to the President Mr. Merry&#8217;s note of this morning, and
+has the honor to remark to him that the President&#8217;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&#8217;s company
+at dinner on Monday next.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Madison tenders to Mr. Merry his distinguished consideration.&#8221;</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&#8217;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 &#8220;lend his assistance
+to his majesty&#8217;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.&#8221;</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>&#8220;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.&#8221;</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&mdash;one of them just thirty years old, the other thirty-four&mdash;should
+rank among the epic literature of the world. Battered about,
+scattered, separated, lost, hawked from hand to hand, handed down as
+unvalued heritages, &#8220;edited&#8221; first by this and then by that little
+man, sometimes to the extent of actual mutilation or alteration of
+their text&mdash;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&#8217;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&#8217;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&mdash;the wild placer days
+of gold-mining in Montana.</p>
+
+<p>As for Sacajawea, she has a monument&mdash;a very poor and inadequate
+one&mdash;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&mdash;some call
+it nothing less than providential&mdash;which brought the white men through
+in safety.</p>
+
+<p>Trace this Indian girl&#8217;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&mdash;John Randolph of Roanoke. Irascible, high-voiced,
+high-headed, truculent, insolent, vitriolic&mdash;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&mdash;it was always certain
+that John Randolph of Roanoke would do what he liked, and do what&mdash;for
+that present time&mdash;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&#8217;s Note:</span></h3>
+
+<p>Minor changes have been made to correct obvious typesetters&#8217; errors;
+otherwise, every effort has been made to remain true to the author&#8217;s
+words and intent.</p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Magnificent Adventure, by Emerson Hough
+
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+</pre>
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+</body>
+</html>
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Magnificent Adventure, by Emerson Hough
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Magnificent Adventure
+       Being the Story of the World's Greatest Exploration and
+       the Romance of a Very Gallant Gentleman
+
+Author: Emerson Hough
+
+Illustrator: Arthur I. Keller
+
+Release Date: October 20, 2009 [EBook #30298]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAGNIFICENT ADVENTURE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by D Alexander and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
+produced from images generously made available by The
+Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ THE
+
+ MAGNIFICENT
+
+ ADVENTURE
+
+ _Being the Story of the World's
+ Greatest Exploration and the
+ Romance of a Very Gallant
+ Gentleman._
+
+ A NOVEL
+
+ BY
+ EMERSON HOUGH
+
+ AUTHOR OF
+
+ THE COVERED WAGON,
+ NORTH OF 36, ETC.
+
+ ILLUSTRATED BY
+ ARTHUR I. KELLER
+
+ NEW YORK
+ GROSSET & DUNLAP
+ PUBLISHERS
+
+ Made in the United States of America
+
+
+
+
+ COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY
+ EMERSON HOUGH
+
+ COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY THE FRANK A. MUNSEY COMPANY
+
+ Printed in the United States of America
+
+
+
+
+ [Illustration: "'Him Ro'shones,' replied the girl"
+ [PAGE 219]]
+
+
+
+
+ TO
+ ROBERT H. DAVIS
+ GOOD FRIEND
+ INVALUABLE COLLABORATOR
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+ PART I
+
+ CHAPTER                                                   PAGE
+
+      I. MOTHER AND SON                                      3
+
+     II. MERIWETHER AND THEODOSIA                           15
+
+    III. MR. BURR AND MR. MERRY                             30
+
+     IV. PRESIDENT AND SECRETARY                            36
+
+      V. THE PELL-MELL AND SOME CONSEQUENCES                47
+
+     VI. THE GREAT CONSPIRACY                               71
+
+    VII. COLONEL BURR AND HIS DAUGHTER                      86
+
+   VIII. THE PARTING                                        94
+
+     IX. MR. THOMAS JEFFERSON                              105
+
+      X. THE THRESHOLD OF THE WEST                         117
+
+     XI. THE TAMING OF PATRICK GASS                        128
+
+    XII. CAPTAIN WILLIAM CLARK                             137
+
+   XIII. UNDER THREE FLAGS                                 143
+
+    XIV. THE RENT IN THE ARMOR                             153
+
+ PART II
+
+      I. UNDER ONE FLAG                                    167
+
+     II. THE MYSTERIOUS LETTER                             182
+
+    III. THE DAY'S WORK                                    191
+
+     IV. THE CROSSROADS OF THE WEST                        199
+
+      V. THE APPEAL                                        208
+
+     VI. WHICH WAY?                                        218
+
+    VII. THE MOUNTAINS                                     230
+
+   VIII. TRAIL'S END                                       241
+
+     IX. THE SUMMONS                                       250
+
+      X. THE ABYSS                                         256
+
+     XI. THE BEE                                           272
+
+    XII. WHAT VOICE HAD CALLED?                            280
+
+   XIII. THE NEWS                                          292
+
+    XIV. THE GUESTS OF A NATION                            300
+
+     XV. MR. JEFFERSON'S ADVICE                            308
+
+    XVI. THE QUALITY OF MERCY                              316
+
+   XVII. THE FRIENDS                                       328
+
+  XVIII. THE WILDERNESS                                    336
+
+    XIX. DOWN TO THE SEA                                   351
+
+
+
+
+ LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+ "'Him Ro'shones,' replied the girl"            _Frontispiece_
+
+                                                    FACING PAGE
+
+ "'Mistah Thomas Jeffahson!' was his sole announcement"     50
+
+ "'Oh, Theo, what have I done?'"                           162
+
+ "Her face indeed!"                                        252
+
+
+
+
+ THE
+ MAGNIFICENT ADVENTURE
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+MOTHER AND SON
+
+
+A 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 _outre_
+among a people so often called to the chase or to war.
+
+His tunic was of dressed deer hide, his well-fitting leggings also of
+that material. His feet were covered 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+He was right. The strong figure in the chair did not start away. No
+exclamation came from the straight mouth of the face now turned
+toward him. Evidently the nerves of these two were not of the sort
+readily stampeded.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+"You are late, yes."
+
+"And you waited--so long?"
+
+"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.
+
+"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 back
+in time, because you told me that you would."
+
+"And you did not fear for me, then--gone overnight in the woods?" He
+half smiled at that thought himself.
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+"I did not desert my duty, mother," said he at length.
+
+"Oh, no, you would not do that, Merne!" returned the widow.
+
+"Please, mother," said he suddenly, "I want you to call me by my full
+name--that of your people. Am I not Meriwether, too?"
+
+The hand on his forehead ceased its gentle movement, fell to its
+owner's lap. A sigh passed his mother's set lips.
+
+"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?"
+
+"I am Meriwether Lewis, mother," said he gravely, and no more.
+
+"Yes!" She spoke absently, musingly. "Yes, you always were!"
+
+"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."
+
+"I know that, my son, yes. You were born for the forest. I fear I
+shall not hold you long on this quiet farm."
+
+"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."
+
+"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?"
+
+He looked around at her rather gravely once again, unsmilingly, for he
+rarely smiled.
+
+"How do you know, mother? What do you know? Tell me--about myself!
+Then I will tell you also. We shall see how we agree as to what I am
+and what I ought to do!"
+
+"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."
+
+The youth did not move as she sat, her hands on his head. Her voice
+went on, even and steady.
+
+"You are old, Meriwether Lewis! It is time, now. You are a man. You
+_always_ 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!"
+
+He remained motionless, apparently unaffected, as his mother went on.
+
+"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. 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 _stood_, 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."
+
+She paused, but still he did not speak.
+
+"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!"
+
+"You were better named Cassandra, mother!" Yet the young man scarce
+smiled even now.
+
+"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 and that resolution, all
+these combined, must spell for you. You know how his heart was racked
+at times?"
+
+The boy nodded now.
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+"Tragedy is yours, my son," said she, slowly, "not happiness. No woman
+will ever come and lie in your arms happy and content."
+
+"Mother!"
+
+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.
+
+"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
+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!"
+
+She sighed, shivered, and looked about her, startled, as if she had
+spoken aloud in some dream.
+
+"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."
+
+"You give me no long shrift, mother?" said the youth, with a twinkle
+in his eye.
+
+"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!"
+
+There was a long silence; then the widow continued.
+
+"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."
+
+Again silence fell between them before she went on, her hand again
+resting on her son's dark hair.
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+He rose now, and, silently as he had come, passed around the end of
+the wide gallery.
+
+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 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.
+
+That was the time when the mother of Meriwether Lewis gave him to his
+fate--his fate, so closely linked with yours and mine.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+MERIWETHER AND THEODOSIA
+
+
+Soft 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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+Arcturus could not tell. He could but prance insinuatingly, his ears
+forward, his head tossed, his eye now and again turned about,
+inquiring.
+
+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.
+
+A bevy of partridges, feeding at dawn along the 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Her dark hair--cut rather squarely across her forehead 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"Can you then call it good fortune?" His own voice was low,
+suppressed.
+
+"Why not, then?"
+
+"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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"And I also."
+
+"And there was the serpent."
+
+"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?"
+
+"Captain Meriwether Lewis is singularly gloomy this morning!"
+
+"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."
+
+"For both of us?"
+
+"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?"
+
+"And you followed me? Ah!"
+
+"I suppose I did, and yet I did not. If I did I knew I was riding to
+my fate."
+
+She would have spoken--her lips half parted--but what she might have
+said none heard.
+
+He went on:
+
+"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."
+
+"You have never spoken aught else to any human soul. That I know."
+
+"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!"
+
+Her face was troubled. She looked aside as she replied in a voice low,
+but firm:
+
+"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."
+
+"I know that," he said simply.
+
+"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 did not have enemies, no matter how
+clean her life has been."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"I trust Captain Meriwether Lewis," she replied.
+
+They advanced silently, and presently came in sight of a little
+cascade above a rocky shallowing of the stream. Below this, after
+they had splashed through the ford, they saw the gray stone walls of
+Rock Creek Mill.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The sun drew gently up in the heavens, screened by the waving trees.
+The ripple of the stream was very sweet.
+
+"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."
+
+"A sinless Eden, sir."
+
+"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."
+
+"Going away--where, then, my friend?"
+
+"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!"
+
+"But you will--you will come back again?"
+
+"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!"
+
+"You would never doubt my faith in my husband."
+
+"No! Of course, you love your husband. I could not look at you a
+second time if you did not."
+
+"You are a good man, Meriwether Lewis!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"She meant, Meriwether Lewis, that you were a 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----"
+
+"And a woman may divide not love, only love of love itself?"
+
+"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."
+
+"And what then?"
+
+"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."
+
+She spoke softly, and the color of her cheek, still rising, told of
+her self-reproof.
+
+He turned suddenly at this, a wonderfully sweet smile now upon his
+face.
+
+"As long as I can?"
+
+"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."
+
+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:
+
+"I want to see you happy after a time--with some good woman at your
+side--your children by you--in 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!"
+
+He shook his head.
+
+"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."
+
+"Fie! I will not have such talk on a morning like this."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+She raised her cup and saluted laughingly.
+
+"A good journey, Meriwether Lewis," said she, "and a happy return from
+it! Cast away such melancholy--you will forget all this!"
+
+"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."
+
+"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----"
+
+"As----"
+
+"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?"
+
+"More likely six years. If there is healing for me, the wilderness
+alone must give it."
+
+"I shall be an old woman--old and sallow from the Carolina suns. You
+will have forgotten me then."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+He raised a hand.
+
+"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 be for me forever after! That thought, it
+seems to me, I could not endure."
+
+"Go, then, my savage gentleman, and let me----"
+
+"And let you never see my face again?"
+
+She rose and stood looking at him, her own eyes wet with a sudden
+moisture.
+
+"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!"
+
+"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?"
+
+He swung into his saddle, reined his horse about, turned and bowed
+formally to his late _vis-a-vis_, 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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+MR. BURR AND MR. MERRY
+
+
+The 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.
+
+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.
+
+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 horseman.
+His own garb and face showed not the slightest proof that he had been
+riding hard.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+The young Virginian bowed to both gentlemen.
+
+"I have persuaded his excellency the minister from Great Britain to
+ride with us on one of our Washington mornings. He has been good
+enough to say--to say--that he enjoys it!"
+
+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.
+
+"Yes," said the envoy, "to be sure I recall the young man. I met him
+in the anteroom at the President's house."
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+"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 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."
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"Say not so!" said Burr, laughing. "Better--he rides like a
+Virginian!"
+
+"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----"
+
+"You know well enough how far I agree with you," said Burr somberly.
+
+"'Tis an experiment, our republic, I am willing to say that boldly to
+you, at least. How long it may last----"
+
+"Depends on men like you," said Merry, suddenly 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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"How then, Mr. Minister?"
+
+"One for her father----"
+
+Aaron Burr bowed.
+
+"Yes, her father first, as I verily believe. What then?"
+
+"The second for her husband----"
+
+"Certainly. Mr. Alston is a rising man. He has a thousand slaves on
+his plantations--he is one of the richest of the rich South
+Carolinian planters. And in politics he has a chance--more than a
+chance. But after that?"
+
+"The third portion of so charming a woman's heart might perhaps be
+assigned to Captain Meriwether Lewis!"
+
+"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."
+
+"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.
+
+Burr did not answer, and they rode on.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+PRESIDENT AND SECRETARY
+
+
+There 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.
+
+"You-all suttinly did warm old Arcturum a li'l bit dis mawnin', Mistah
+Mehywethah!"
+
+Samson patted the neck of the spirited animal, which tossed its head
+and turned an eye to its late rider.
+
+"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.
+
+"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!"
+
+The young man answered the negro's compliment 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 menage, 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.
+
+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.
+
+"Good morning, Mr. Jefferson," said Meriwether Lewis, in the greeting
+which he always used.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Grandly, sir. He is a fine animal. I have never ridden a better."
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Here was a man, all said who knew him, of whose 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"Mr. Jefferson--" he began, but paused, for he could see now standing
+before him his friend, the man whom, of all in the world, he loved,
+and the man who believed in him and loved him.
+
+"Yes, my son?"
+
+"Your burden is grievous hard, and yet----"
+
+"Yes, my son?"
+
+But Meriwether Lewis could not speak further. He stood now, his jaws
+set hard, looking out of the window.
+
+The older man came and gently laid a hand upon his shoulder.
+
+"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."
+
+Lewis only turned on him an eye so full of anguish as caused the older
+man to knit his brow in deep concern.
+
+"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!"
+
+The young man did not speak.
+
+"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 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."
+
+But still Meriwether could only look into the face of his superior.
+
+"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?"
+
+"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!"
+
+The older man stood looking at him for a time in silence, as he went
+on hurriedly:
+
+"I must say good-by to you, best and noblest of men. Indeed, I have
+said good-by to--everything."
+
+"As you say, your case is hopeless?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"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?"
+
+"I asked you when I was a boy to send me, but you could not then."
+
+"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. 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!"
+
+They stood there, two men who made our great adventure for
+us--vision-seers, vision-owned, gazing each into the other's eyes.
+
+"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."
+
+The old man laid a kindly hand upon his shoulder.
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Done!" said he.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"I told them," said he, "to loose a half-dozen birds at once. See!
+See!"
+
+He unrolled from one leg of the prisoner a little cylinder of paper
+covered with tinfoil and tied firmly 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.
+
+Mr. Jefferson read, and spread out the paper that his aide might read:
+
+     General Bonaparte signed May 2--Fifteen millions--Rejoice!
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+Thomas Jefferson stretched out his right hand to meet that of
+Meriwether Lewis. Their clasp was strong and firm. The eye of each man
+blazed.
+
+"Mr. Jefferson," said Meriwether Lewis, "this is your monument!"
+
+"And yours," was the reply. "Come, then!"
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+Neither said anything further until once again they were in the
+President's little office-room; but Thomas Jefferson's eye now was
+afire.
+
+"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
+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."
+
+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.
+
+"I give you my promise, Mr. Jefferson," said Meriwether Lewis.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+THE PELL-MELL AND SOME CONSEQUENCES
+
+
+It 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----"
+
+"Yes, my son?"
+
+"It grows late. You know that today the British minister, Mr. Merry,
+comes to meet the President for the first time formally--at dinner.
+Senor Yrujo also--and their ladies, of course. Mr. Burr and Mr. Merry
+seem already acquainted. I met them riding this morning."
+
+"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?"
+
+"I thought perhaps I should go to my rooms to change for dinner. You
+see that I am still in riding-clothes."
+
+"And what of that, my son? I am in something worse!"
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+Meriwether Lewis allowed himself a smile.
+
+"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!"
+
+An hour later Meriwether Lewis stood before his narrow mirror, well
+and handsomely clad, as was 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 been heard. The policy of
+pell-mell was not working itself out in any happy social fashion.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"It is Mr. Minister Merry," said he, "and Mme. Merry." He bowed
+deeply. "Senor and Senora Yrujo, I bring you the respects of Mr.
+Jefferson. He will be with us presently."
+
+"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?"
+
+"We have no suite, sir. I represent the President as his aide."
+
+"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.
+
+[Illustration: "'Mistah Thomas Jeffahson!' was his sole announcement"]
+
+They turned once more to the Spanish minister, 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.
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Mistah Thomas Jeffahson!" was his sole announcement.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 toward any who were to join him there. There was no
+announcement; there was no _pas_, 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!
+
+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.
+
+Here he was met once more by the party from behind the davenport.
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+Merry turned to his wife, and from her to the wife of the Spanish
+minister.
+
+"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 to sit at table with him! He _cannot_ be the President
+of the United States!"
+
+"None the less he is, Mr. Merry!" the secretary assured him.
+
+"Good Heavens!" said the minister from Great Britain, as he passed on,
+half dazed.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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,
+entirely unconcerned with what he saw. If there was trouble, it was
+for others, not for him.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 remained unsmoothed, and then stood by them for an
+instant, intending to take his departure.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+If the pell-mell dinner was at first a thing inchoate, 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.
+
+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
+_chef de cuisine_, 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:
+
+     Huitres de Shinnecock, Saulce Tempete
+     Olives du Luc
+     Othon Marine a l'Huile Vierge
+     Amandes et Cerneaux Sales
+     Pot au Feu du Roy "Henriot"
+     Croustade Mogador
+     Truite de Ruisselet, Belle Meuniere
+     Pommes en Fines Herbes
+     Fricot de tendre Poulet en Coquemare, au Vieux Chanturgne
+     Tourte de Ris de Veau, Financiere
+     Baron de Pre Sale aux Primeurs
+     Sorbet des Comtes de Champagne
+     Dinde Sauvage flambee devant les Sarments de Vigne,
+       flanquee d'Ortolans
+     Aspic de Foie Gras Lucullus
+     Salade des Nymphes a la Lamballe
+     Asperges Chauldes enduites de Sauce
+     Lombardienne
+     Dessert et Fruits de la Reunion
+     Fromage de Bique
+     Cafe Arabe
+     Larmes de Juliette
+
+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 Senor 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.
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"There may be many things here you have not expected, your
+excellency," said Mr. Burr.
+
+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 another speak freely what he wished to hear,
+himself reticent the while.
+
+The face of the English dignitary clouded again.
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+"Give me leave, sir," continued Merry. "This republic, what is it?
+What has it done?"
+
+"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 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!"
+
+Senor Yrujo helped himself to a brimming glass of his own wine.
+
+"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!"
+
+"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?"
+
+He spoke to men heated with wine, smarting under social indignity, men
+owning a hurt personal vanity.
+
+"Our past is proof enough," said Merry proudly.
+
+Yrujo needed no more than a shrug.
+
+"Divide and conquer?" Burr went on, looking at them, and raising an
+eyebrow in query.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Divide that unknown country, the West, and how long would this
+republic endure?" said Aaron Burr.
+
+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.
+
+"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, Senor 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 flag all the territory which they have reached on
+their Western trading routes. I go with you that far."
+
+Merry turned upon Burr suddenly a deep and estimating eye.
+
+"I begin to see," said he, "that you are open to conviction, Mr.
+Burr."
+
+"Not open to conviction," said Aaron Burr, "but already convinced!"
+
+"What do you mean, Colonel Burr?" The Englishman bent toward him,
+frowning in intentness.
+
+"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."
+
+"Where, then, could we meet after this is over?"
+
+The minister from Great Britain surely was not beyond close and ready
+estimate of events.
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+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
+his place. The dinner had drawn toward its close.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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, 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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"More than a year ago I once more chose a messenger 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."
+
+He turned his gaze contemplatively down the long table. The gaze of
+many of his guests followed his, still wonderingly, as he went on.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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 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."
+
+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.
+
+"And now for my news," he said at length. "Here you have it!"
+
+He waved once more the little scrap of paper.
+
+"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.
+
+"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, unowned--indeed, virgin territory so far as
+definite title was concerned.
+
+"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.
+
+"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:
+
+     "General Bonaparte signed May 2--Fifteen millions--Rejoice!"
+
+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.
+
+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 table, and then at that of the silent young man whom Mr.
+Jefferson had publicly honored.
+
+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.
+
+"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!
+
+"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 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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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!
+
+"Gentlemen, I give you a toast--Captain Meriwether Lewis!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE GREAT CONSPIRACY
+
+
+The 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.
+
+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.
+
+"Do you forget your friends so soon? I must add my good wishes. It was
+splendid, what Mr. Jefferson said--and it was true!"
+
+"I wish it might be true," said the young man. "I wish I might be
+worthy of such a man."
+
+"You are worthy of us all," returned Theodosia.
+
+"People are kind to the condemned," said he sententiously.
+
+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.
+
+"My dear," said Mr. Merry to his irate spouse, "I 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."
+
+The Spanish minister made similar excuse to his own wife. Thus
+Theodosia Alston left Meriwether Lewis for the second time that day.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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.[1] I shall ask him whether
+or not there is to be any repetition of this sort of thing."
+
+[Footnote 1: 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:
+
+"Thomas Jefferson asks the favor of Mr. Merry to dine with a small
+party of friends on Monday, the 13th, at half past three."
+
+Mr. Merry, still smarting all these months, stood on his dignity and
+addressed his reply to the Secretary of State.
+
+Reviewing at some length what seemed to him important events, he
+added:
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+The Secretary of State, who seems to have been acting as social
+secretary to Mr. Jefferson, without hesitation replied as follows:
+
+"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.
+
+"Mr. Madison tenders to Mr. Merry his distinguished consideration."
+
+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.]
+
+"So much for the rule of the plain people!" said Burr, as he laid the
+tips of his fingers together contemplatively.
+
+"Yet, Colonel Burr, you are Vice-President under this administration!"
+broke out Merry.
+
+"One must use agencies and opportunities as they 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."
+
+"Sir," said the British minister, "you have been a student of
+affairs."
+
+"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--_but not under the flag of this republic!_"
+
+Silence greeted his remark. The others sat for a moment, merely
+gazing at him, half stunned, remembering only that he was Jefferson's
+colleague, Vice-President of the United States.
+
+"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."
+
+"You will explain more fully, Colonel Burr?" Mr. Merry was intent now
+on all that he heard.
+
+"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 the Appalachians, or to drive it once more into the sea."
+
+They were silent alike before the enormousness and the enormity of
+this. Reading their thoughts, Burr raised his hand in deprecation.
+
+"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."
+
+"What you say, Mr. Burr," began Merry gravely, "assuredly has the
+merit of audacity. And I see that you have given it thought."
+
+"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?"
+
+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 it is to be said that he was there to represent the
+interests of his own government alone.
+
+In the same even tones, Burr resumed his astonishing statements.
+
+"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."
+
+"So, then," began Yrujo, "the financing is somewhat forward! But fifty
+thousand is only a drop."
+
+"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."
+
+"Your funds," said Mr. Merry, "seem to me inadequate for the demands
+which will be made upon them. You said fifty thousand?"
+
+Burr nodded.
+
+"I pledge you as much more--on one condition that I shall name."
+
+Burr turned from Mr. Merry to Senor Yrujo. The latter nodded.
+
+"I undertake to contribute the same amount," said the envoy of Spain,
+"but with no condition attached."
+
+The color deepened in the cheek of the great conspirator. His eye
+glittered a trifle more brilliantly.
+
+"You named a certain condition, sir," he said to Merry.
+
+"Yes, one entirely obvious."
+
+"What is it, then, your excellency?" Burr inquired.
+
+"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!"
+
+"Yes, your excellency," said Burr, "I agree with you, but----"
+
+"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."
+
+Burr nodded, his lips compressed.
+
+"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!"
+
+"All that your excellency has said tallies entirely with our own
+beliefs," rejoined Burr. "But what then? What is the condition?"
+
+"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!"
+
+Burr sat in silence for a time.
+
+"You open up a singular train of thought for me, your excellency,"
+said he at length. "He does belong with us, that young Virginian!"
+
+"You know him, then?" inquired the British minister. "That is to say,
+you know him well?"
+
+"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."
+
+"How, then?" inquired Merry.
+
+"The way of a woman with a man may always be the answer in matters of
+that sort!" said Aaron Burr.
+
+The three sat and looked each at the other for some time without
+comment.
+
+"I find Colonel Burr's brain active in all ways!" began Senor Yrujo
+dryly. "Now I confess that he goes somewhat in advance of mine."
+
+"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."
+
+"Then even the unusual weapon you suggest might not avail!" Mr.
+Merry's smile was not altogether pleasant.
+
+"Women would listen to him readily, I think," remarked Yrujo.
+
+"Gallant in his way, yes," said Burr.
+
+"Then what do you mean by saying something about the way of a woman
+with a man?"
+
+"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."
+
+"You reason well," said Merry. "But while men are mortal, yonder, if I
+mistake not, is a gentleman."
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+"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 chivalry or his sense of justice. His reasons must be
+honest to him. They must be honest to her alike."
+
+Burr added this last virtuously, and Mr. Merry bowed deeply in return.
+
+"This is not only honorable of you, Colonel Burr, but logical."
+
+"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?"
+
+"We have left out of our accounting one factor," said Burr after a
+time.
+
+"What, then?"
+
+"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.[2] Now, 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!'"
+
+[Footnote 2: 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.]
+
+"When could we learn?" demanded the British minister.
+
+"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."
+
+"But he starts at dawn!" smiled Minister Merry.
+
+"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?"
+
+The British minister was businesslike and definite.
+
+"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.[3] 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."
+
+[Footnote 3: 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."
+
+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:
+
+"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."]
+
+The dark eye of Aaron Burr flashed.
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+"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."
+
+The others rose. The hour was past midnight. The secret conference had
+been a long one.
+
+"He starts tomorrow--is that sure?" asked Merry.
+
+"As the clock," rejoined Burr. "She must see him before the breakfast
+hour."
+
+"My compliments, Colonel Burr. Good night!"
+
+"Good night, sir," added Yrujo. "It has been a strange day."
+
+"Secrecy, gentlemen, secrecy! I hope soon to have more news for you,
+and good news, too. _Au revoir!_"
+
+Burr himself accompanied them to the door.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+COLONEL BURR AND HIS DAUGHTER
+
+
+One 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.
+
+"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?"
+
+He still paced the floor until he heard a light _frou-frou_ 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.
+
+"What is it, father--are you ill?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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 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?
+
+"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!"
+
+He caught Theodosia's look of surprise, her start, the swift flush on
+her cheek--and laughed lightly.
+
+"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."
+
+"It seems that you value him more now than once you did."
+
+"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 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."
+
+"What woman, father?"
+
+A flush came to her pale cheek. Her father turned to her directly, his
+own piercing gaze aflame.
+
+"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!"
+
+She swiftly turned her head aside, not answering.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Do you believe that of me--and you my father?"
+
+"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?"
+
+"There would be prospects for him?"
+
+"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?"
+
+Troubled, again she turned her gaze aside.
+
+"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?"
+
+Still her downcast eye gave him no reply.
+
+"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.
+
+"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. 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.
+
+"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, _and for the sake of that young man yonder_, you should not
+go to him immediately and carry my message."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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 have chosen
+the only one in all the world who might undertake this errand with the
+slightest prospect of success."
+
+"What can I do, father?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"Treachery? No, it is statesmanship, it is service to mankind!"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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! I have not slept tonight," he added, passing a hand across
+his forehead.
+
+"There will be no more sleep for me tonight," was her reply.
+
+"You will see him in the morning?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+THE PARTING
+
+
+There 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.
+
+"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."
+
+The President tapped a long forefinger on the map.
+
+"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 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."
+
+Meriwether Lewis listened in silence. Mr. Jefferson turned to another
+branch of his theme.
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+Indeed, the sun was rising over Washington, the mists of morning were
+reeking along the banks of the Potomac.
+
+"I can start in half an hour," replied Meriwether Lewis.
+
+"Are your men ready, your supplies gathered together?"
+
+"The rendezvous is at Harper's Ferry, up the river. The wagons with
+the supplies are ready there. I will 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."
+
+"Spoken like a soldier! It is in your hands. Go then!"
+
+There was one look, one handclasp. The two men parted; nor did they
+meet again for years.
+
+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.
+
+The sun still was young when Meriwether Lewis at length descended the
+steps of the Executive Mansion.
+
+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.
+
+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" 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.
+
+Such was the leader of one of the great expeditions of the world.
+
+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:
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     I will write again on my arrival at Pittsburgh. Adieu, and
+     believe me your affectionate son.
+
+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 steadily, his head
+high, his eye on ahead--a splendid figure of a man.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Mrs. Alston!" he exclaimed, as the carriage came up. "Why are you
+here? Is there any news?"
+
+"Yes, else I could not have come."
+
+"But why have you come? Tell me!"
+
+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.
+
+"Pardon me," said he, and his voice was cold; "I thought I had cut all
+ties."
+
+"Knit them again for my sake, then, Meriwether Lewis! I have brought
+you a summons to return."
+
+"A summons? From whom?"
+
+"My father--Mr. Merry--Senor Yrujo. They were at our home all night.
+We could not--they could not--I could not--bear to see you sacrifice
+yourself. This expedition can only fail! I implore you not to go upon
+it! Do not let your man's pride drive you!"
+
+She was excited, half sobbing.
+
+"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----"
+
+"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."
+
+"Why did you come thus, unattended? There is something you are
+concealing. Tell me!"
+
+"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."
+
+"You speak well! Go on."
+
+"England is with us, and Spain--they back my father's plans."
+
+He turned now and raised a hand.
+
+"Plans? What plans? I must warn you, I am pledged to my own country's
+service."
+
+"Is not my father also? He is one of the highest officers in the
+government of this country."
+
+"You may tell me more or not, as you like."
+
+"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."
+
+He sat motionless, looking straight ahead, as she went on.
+
+"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."
+
+The color was full in her face. He turned toward her suddenly, his eye
+clouded.
+
+"It is an extraordinary matter in every way which you bring for me,"
+he said slowly; "extraordinary that 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?"
+
+"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----"
+
+"Regard! What do you mean?"
+
+"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."
+
+She was all confusion now. He seemed pitiless.
+
+"I have listened long enough to have my curiosity aroused. I shall
+have somewhat to ponder--on the trail to the West."
+
+"Then you mean that you will go on?"
+
+"Yes!"
+
+"You do not understand----"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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 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!"
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+This time he did not turn back again.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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.
+
+Burr met her at the door. His keen eye read the answer at once.
+
+"You have failed!" said he.
+
+She raised her dark eyes to his, herself silent, mournful.
+
+"What did he say?" demanded Burr.
+
+"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!"
+
+"You failed," said Burr, "because you did not use the right argument
+with him. The next time _you must not fail_. You must use better
+arguments!"
+
+Theodosia stood motionless for an instant, looking at her father, then
+passed back into the house.
+
+"Listen, my daughter," said Burr at length, in his eye a light that
+she never had known before. "You _must_ 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 _must_ 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. _Ask him to come back to Theodosia
+Burr and happiness_--do you understand?"
+
+"Sir," said his daughter, "I think--I think I do not understand!"
+
+He seemed not to hear her--or to toss her answer aside.
+
+"You must try again," said he, "and with the right weapons--the old
+ones, my dear--the old weapons of a woman!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+MR. THOMAS JEFFERSON
+
+
+Not 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.
+
+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.
+
+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 black servants still
+remaining at his country house in Virginia.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+     Provisions                       $4,059.98
+     Wines                             1,296.63
+     Groceries                         1,624.76
+     Fuel                                553.68
+     Secretary                           600.00
+     Servants                          2,014.89
+     Miscellaneous                       433.30
+     Stable                              399.06
+     Dress                               246.05
+     Charities                         1,585.60
+     Pres. House                         226.59
+     Books                               497.41
+     Household expenses                  393.00
+     Monticello--plantation            2,226.45
+          "    --family                1,028.79
+     Loans                               274.00
+     Debts                               529.61
+     Asquisitions--lands bought        2,156.86
+          "      --buildings           3,567.92
+          "      --carriages             363.75
+          "      --furniture             664.10
+
+     Total                           $24,682.45
+
+Mr. Jefferson says in rather shamefaced fashion to his diary:
+
+          I ought by this statement to have cash in
+            hand                                      $183.70
+          But I actually have in hand                  293.00
+          So that the errors of this statement amt
+            to                                         109.20
+
+     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.
+
+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 and marvelously
+varied activities he finds time to leave for us such records as these:
+
+     Mr. Remsen tells me that six cord of hickory last a
+     fireplace well the winter.
+
+     Myrtle candles of last year out.
+
+     Pd Farren an impudent surcharge for Venetn blinds, 2.66.
+
+     Borrowed of Mr. Maddison order on bank for 150d.
+
+     Enclosed to D. Rittenhouse, Lieper's note of 238.57d, out of
+     which he is to pay for equatorial instrument for me.
+
+     Hitzeimer says that a horse well fed with grain requires 100
+     lb. of hay, and without grain 130 lb.
+
+     T. N. Randolph has had 9 galls. whisky for his harvest.
+
+     My first pipe of Termo is out--begun soon after I came home
+     to live from Philadelphia.
+
+     Agreed with Robt. Chuning to serve me as overseer at
+     Monticello for L25 and 600 lb. pork. He is to come Dec. 1.
+
+     Agreed with ---- Bohlen to give 300 _livres tournois_ for my
+     bust made by Ceracchi, if he shall agree to take that sum.
+
+     My daughter Maria married this day.
+
+     March 16--The first shad at this market today.
+
+     March 28--The weeping willow shows the green leaf.
+
+     April 9--Asparagus come to table.
+
+     April 10--Apricots blossom.
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+As to the code of official etiquette which we have seen to exist in
+Washington, the President himself was responsible for it, for we
+have, written out in his own delicate hand, the following explicit
+instructions:
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+And so on, through reams and reams of a strange man's life records.
+
+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:
+
+     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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+     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 Mount Hood is seen
+     about twenty leagues distant, which is probably a dependency
+     of the Stony Mountains. Accept my affectionate salutations.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+"Who is she, Henry?" inquired the President of the United States
+mildly. "I am somewhat busy today."
+
+"'Tain't no diff'rence, she say--she sho'ly want see Mistah
+Jeffahson."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"My dear," said he, "you will pardon our confusion here, I am sure.
+There are many matters----"
+
+"I know it is an intrusion, Mr. Jefferson," began 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.
+
+"I was not so fortunate as to find time for sleep last night." He
+smiled again with humorous, half twisted mouth.
+
+"Nor was I."
+
+"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?"
+
+"How did you know?" she exclaimed, startled.
+
+"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."
+
+She was looking straight into his face, her eyes mournful.
+
+"I was glad to send him away, sorely as I miss him. But then, you
+said, you come to me about him?"
+
+"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, 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?"
+
+"You need not speak, my dear, I know."
+
+"I shall be faithful to my husband, Mr. Jefferson."
+
+The old man nodded.
+
+"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?"
+
+In turn she laid a small hand upon the President's arm.
+
+"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."
+
+"What is it, Theodosia?" he said quietly. "I do not grasp all this."
+
+"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----"
+
+"Good, my learned counsel--say on!"
+
+"Forgive my weak wit--I only try to say this as I heard it, well and
+plainly."
+
+"As well as any man, my dear! Go on."
+
+"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."
+
+"And perhaps by certain of my own party not Federalists--by Colonel
+Aaron Burr, for instance!" Thomas Jefferson smiled grimly.
+
+"Yes!" She spoke firmly and with courage.
+
+"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."
+
+"I saw him this very morning--I took my reputation in my hands--I
+followed him--I urged him, I implored him to stop!"
+
+"Yes? And did he?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+She did not reply. After a time the President went on gently:
+
+"My dear, would you wish him to come back--would 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?"
+
+She drew up proudly.
+
+"What benefit, indeed, to me? Do you think I would ask this for
+myself? No, it was for _him_--it was for _his_ welfare only that I
+dared to come to you. And you will not hear new evidence?"
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"You would not hear what was the actual cause of my wish for him----"
+
+"No, my dear! We have made our plans."
+
+"There are other plans afoot these days, Mr. Jefferson."
+
+"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 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!"
+
+She rose now, calm before the imperious quality of his nature, so
+unlike his former gentleness.
+
+"You refuse, then, Mr. Jefferson? You will not reopen this case?"
+
+"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."
+
+Suddenly he saw the tears in her eyes. At once he was back again, the
+courteous gentleman.
+
+"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."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THE THRESHOLD OF THE WEST
+
+
+Meriwether 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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+     DEAR MERNE:
+
+     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 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.
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     With all affec'n, I remain,
+
+               Your friend,
+
+                    WM. CLARK.
+
+     P. S.--God alone knows how mutch this all may mean to You
+     and me, Merne--WILL.
+
+Clark, then, was to meet him at the Falls of the Ohio, and he, too,
+counseled haste. Lewis drove his 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.
+
+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.
+
+"What is it, my son?" said he. "Did you wish to see me?"
+
+The boy advanced, smiling.
+
+"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."
+
+"You are right--I remember you perfectly. So you are grown into a
+strapping young man, I see!"
+
+The boy twirled his cap in his hands.
+
+"I want to go along with you, Captain," said he shyly.
+
+"What? You would go with me--do you know what is our journey?"
+
+"No. I only hear that you are going up the Missouri, beyond St. Louis,
+into new country. They say there are buffalo there, and Indians. 'Tis
+too quiet here for me--I want to see the world with you."
+
+The young leader, after his fashion, stood silently regarding the
+other for a time. An instant served him.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"What, is it, George?" he asked at length, looking up.
+
+"Someone waiting to see you, sir--they are in the parlor. They sent
+me----"
+
+"They? Who are they?"
+
+"I don't know, sir. She asked me to come for you."
+
+"She. Who is she?"
+
+"I don't know, sir. She spoke to her father. They are in the room just
+across the hall, sir."
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Why are you here?" he asked at length.
+
+"My father and I are on a journey down the river to visit Mr.
+Blennerhasset on his island. You know his castle there?"
+
+"Why is it that you always come to torment me the more? Another day
+and I should have been gone!"
+
+"Torment you, sir?"
+
+"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 each time I must leave you. Why did you not wait one
+day?"
+
+She made no reply. He fought for his self-control.
+
+"Mr. Jefferson, how is he?" he demanded at length. "You left him
+well?"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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!"
+
+"You shall not leave my face behind you, Captain Lewis!" she said
+suddenly.
+
+"What do you mean, Theodosia? What is it?"
+
+"You shall see me every night under the stars, Meriwether Lewis. I
+will not let you go. I will not relinquish you!"
+
+He turned swiftly toward her, but paused as if caught back by some
+mighty hand.
+
+"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?"
+
+"No! To the contrary, shall I allow you to hasten 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!"
+
+"Can you fancy what all this means to me?" he broke out hoarsely.
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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----"
+
+"There are some words that burn deep," he said slowly. "I know that I
+was not made for happiness."
+
+"Does a woman's wish mean nothing to you? Have I no appeal for you?"
+
+Something like a sob was torn from his bosom.
+
+"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?"
+
+She stood slightly swaying, silent.
+
+"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!"
+
+He saw her movement as she turned, heard her sigh.
+
+"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!"
+
+"He told you what?"
+
+"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. 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!"
+
+He heard the soft rustle of her gown, her light footfall as she
+passed; and once more he was alone.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE TAMING OF PATRICK GASS
+
+
+"Shannon, go get the men!"
+
+It was midnight. For more than an hour Meriwether Lewis had sat, his
+head drooped, in silence.
+
+"We are going to start?" Shannon's face lightened eagerly. "We'll be
+off at sunup?"
+
+"Before that. Get the men--we'll start now! I'll meet you at the
+wharf."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"All's aboard, sir," said he. "Shall we cast off?"
+
+Without a word Lewis nodded and made his way to his place in the boat.
+In the darkness, without a shout or a cheer to mark its passing, the
+expedition was launched on its long journey.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Hello, there!" called a voice through the darkness, after a time.
+"Who goes there?"
+
+The splash of a sweep had attracted the attention of someone on shore.
+The light of a camp fire showed.
+
+Every one in the boat looked at the leader, but none vouchsafed a
+reply to the hail.
+
+"Ahoy there, the boat!" insisted the same voice.
+
+"Shall I fire on yez to make yez answer a civil question? Come ashore
+wance--I can lick the best of yez in three minutes, or me name's not
+Patrick Gass!"
+
+The captain of the boat turned slowly in his seat, casting a glance
+over his silent crew.
+
+"Set in!" said he, sharply and shortly.
+
+Without a word they obeyed, and with oar and steering-sweep the great
+craft slowly swung inshore.
+
+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.
+
+These fellows lay idly looking at Lewis as he entered the light, not
+troubling to accost him.
+
+"Who hailed us?" demanded the latter shortly.
+
+"Begorrah, 'twas me," said a short, strongly built man, stepping
+forward from the other side of the fire.
+
+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.
+
+"'Twas me hailed yez, and what of it?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Yez can learn, if ye're so anxious," replied the 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!"
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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
+well-oiled rifle-locks offered the most serious of warnings.
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+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 _rencontre_--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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"I am not shaking hands with ruffians who insult travelers," Captain
+Lewis sternly rejoined; but he saw the crestfallen look which swept
+over the strong face of the other. "There, man," said he, "since you
+seem to mean well!"
+
+He shook hands with his opponent, who, stung by the rebuke, now began
+to sniffle.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Gass, Patrick Gass, you said?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"You say the Tenth?" said he briefly. "You have been with the colors?
+Look here, my man, do you want to serve?"
+
+"I am going right back to Kaskasky for it, sor."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"I'll take care of that. I have full authority to recruit among
+enlisted men."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+In this curious fashion Patrick Gass of the army--later 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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+CAPTAIN WILLIAM CLARK
+
+
+"Will!"
+
+"Merne!"
+
+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?
+
+"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."
+
+"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, 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."
+
+"The water is low," complained Lewis, "and a thousand things have
+delayed us. Are you ready to start?"
+
+"In ten minutes--in five minutes. I will have my boy York go up and
+get my rifle and my bags."
+
+"Your brother, General Clark, how is he?"
+
+William Clark shrugged with a smile which had half as much sorrow as
+mirth in it.
+
+"The truth is, Merne, the general's heart is broken. He thinks that
+his country has forgotten him."
+
+"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!"
+
+"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!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"Doubtful," said Clark. "The Spanish of the valley 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."
+
+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.
+
+"What sort of men have you in your party, Merne?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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 York along--a negro is always
+good-natured under hardship, and a laugh now and then will not hurt
+any of us."
+
+Lewis nodded assent.
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+As he spoke, so strange a look passed over his friend's face that
+William Clark swiftly put out a hand.
+
+"What is it, Merne? Pardon me! Did she--not wait?"
+
+His companion looked at him gravely.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+William Clark meant well--his friend knew that; so now he smiled, or
+tried to smile.
+
+"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!"
+
+"You are a boy, Will," said Meriwether Lewis, actually smiling now,
+"and I am glad you are and always 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!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+UNDER THREE FLAGS
+
+
+The 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.
+
+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.
+
+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. The flag of Great Britain had withdrawn itself to the North.
+The flag of our republic had not yet advanced.
+
+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?
+
+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!
+
+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 till recently exacted respect chiefly through the
+stark deadliness of its fighting and marching men.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Laussat was the last French commandant in the valley. De Lassus, the
+Spaniard, holding onto his dignity 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!
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+De Lassus choked with emotion as he handed over the keys and the
+archives which so long had been under his charge.
+
+"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!"
+
+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!
+
+"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, Merne?" he added. "I've not been across there for two
+weeks."
+
+"News enough," said Meriwether Lewis gravely. "I just have word of the
+arrival in town of none other than Colonel Aaron Burr."
+
+"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?"
+
+"No. I wish he were alone. Will, she is with him--his daughter, Mrs.
+Alston!"
+
+"Well, what of that? Oh, I know--I know, but why should you meet?"
+
+"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!"
+
+"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 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!"
+
+"You preach very well, Will. Of course, I know you don't practise what
+you preach--who does?"
+
+"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."
+
+Lewis did not answer his friend's jesting argument.
+
+"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 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."
+
+"His deeds! Yes, you are right, they do, indeed, tell the tale. Let us
+hope the reckoning will stand clean at last."
+
+"Merne, you are a soldier, not a preacher."
+
+"Will, you are neither--you are only a boy!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+THE RENT IN THE ARMOR
+
+
+Aaron 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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 apparel now.
+These folk of St. Louis must see us at our best, my dear, our very
+best. Besides----"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"My daughter, Mrs. Alston, will join us presently," he said. "So you
+are ready, Captain Lewis?"
+
+"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!"
+
+"_All bridges burned?_"
+
+The deep voice of Aaron Burr almost trembled. His keen eye searched
+the face of the young man before him.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"I was just going, yes," stammered Meriwether Lewis. "I had hoped----"
+But what he had hoped he did not say.
+
+"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.
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Theodosia sighed.
+
+"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!"
+
+"Yes, I would have preferred that."
+
+"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!"
+
+"I thank you, madam!"
+
+"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."
+
+"Just what do you mean?"
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+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 her, only to be
+done with his last errands, and away on that trail which so long had
+beckoned to him.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+"Coming back?" he began, and stopped short once more. They were now
+both within the shelter of the old building.
+
+"Yes, Merne!" she broke out suddenly. "When are you coming back to me,
+Merne?"
+
+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.
+
+"Coming back to _you_? And you call me by that name? Only my mother,
+Mr. Jefferson and Will Clark ever did so."
+
+"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!"
+
+He made no reply.
+
+"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 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?"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+[Illustration: "'Oh, Theo, what have I done?'"]
+
+"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 know not what
+it was. I heard it. I felt it. Forgive me, it was not I myself! Oh,
+Theo, what have I done?"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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!
+
+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:
+
+"Theo! Theo! What have I done? What have I done?"
+
+
+
+
+PART II
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+UNDER ONE FLAG
+
+
+What 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?
+
+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?
+
+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!
+
+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, 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.
+
+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.
+
+Continually the boats, heavily laden as they were, ran upon shifting
+bars of sand, or made long detours to avoid some _chevaux de frise_ 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.
+
+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.
+
+When sail and oar and setting-pole proved unavailing, 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+A month passed, and more. The hunters exulted that game was so easy to
+get, for they must depend 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+They came riding down in bands, whooping and shouting, painted and
+half naked, well armed--splendid savages, fearing no man, proud,
+capricious, blood-thirsty. 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.
+
+"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."
+
+"You are chiefs!" said Dorion. "Have I not seen it? I will tell them
+so."
+
+But Dorion had been gone but a short time when he came hurrying back
+from the Indian village.
+
+"The runners say plenty buffalo close by," he reported. "The chief,
+she'll call the people to hunt the buffalo."
+
+William Clark turned to his companion.
+
+"You hear that, Merne?" said he. "Why should we not go also?"
+
+"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!"
+
+"Yes, and without saddles, too! Very well, I learned that of my
+brother, who learned it of the Indians 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."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"Strip, Will," said Meriwether Lewis. "If we ride as savages, it must
+be in full keeping."
+
+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 whose skins were white, whose hair was not black, but
+some strange new color--one whose hair was red.
+
+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!
+
+"Now, York, you rascal," commanded William Clark, "do as I tell you!"
+
+"Yessah, massa Captain, I suttinly will!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"Yassah, massa Captain!"
+
+York grinned his enjoyment; and when he had duly executed the
+maneuver, the Sioux greeted the white men with much acclamation.
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"Now we shall serve!" said Lewis an instant later; for they brought
+out two handsome horses, one coal-black, the other piebald, both
+mettlesome and high-strung.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Dorion, also stripped to the waist, a kerchief bound about his head,
+carrying a short carbine against his thigh, now rode alongside.
+
+"He say Weucha show you how Sioux can ride," he interpreted.
+
+"Tell him it is good, Dorion," rejoined Lewis. "We will show him also
+that we can ride!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Lewis found his horse, the black runner that Weucha 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 _zut_. 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"Plenty--you will find them back there."
+
+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.
+
+In time the messenger came back carrying a sheaf of arrows. Grinning,
+he held up the fingers of two hands.
+
+"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!"
+
+The two leaders hastened to their own encampment 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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, in dignified
+silence, not looking about them, they sat, their long locks spread out
+on their shoulders.
+
+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.
+
+At length Meriwether Lewis, holding in his hand the great peace pipe
+that he had brought, arose.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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 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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"Tomorrow our people will go a little way with you 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.
+
+"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!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE MYSTERIOUS LETTER
+
+
+Late 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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+His friend turned to him seriously.
+
+"You are right, Will," said he. "I owe duty to many besides myself."
+
+"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!"
+
+His companion made no reply. They marched on to their own part of the
+encampment, and seated themselves at the little fire which had been
+left burning for them.[4]
+
+[Footnote 4: 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.]
+
+William Clark went on with his reproving.
+
+"Tell me, Merne, what are you thinking of? It is not that woman?"
+
+He seemed to feel the sudden shrinking of the tall figure at his side.
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+"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 _see_ 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."
+
+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 and
+crackling under his hand, and looked down.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+     TO CAPTAIN MERIWETHER LEWIS.--ON THE TRAIL IN THE WEST.
+
+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:
+
+     DEAR SIR AND FRIEND:
+
+     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, 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?
+
+     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?
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     Turn back _now_, Meriwether Lewis! Come back!
+
+The letter was not signed, and needed not to be. Meriwether Lewis sat
+staring at the paper clutched in his hand.
+
+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:
+
+     Oh, if only I had the right to lay some command on you!
+
+Was not he, who had forgotten honor, subject now to any command that
+she might give him?
+
+"Will, Will!" exclaimed Meriwether Lewis, sharply, imperatively, to
+his friend, whom he could see dimly at a little distance as he lay.
+
+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.
+
+"Who calls there? Who goes?" he cried, half awake.
+
+"It is I, Will," said Meriwether Lewis, advancing toward him.
+"Listen--tell me, Will, why did you do this?"
+
+"Why did I do what? Merne, what is wrong?"
+
+Clark was now on his feet, and Lewis held out the letter to him. He
+took it in his hand, looked at it wonderingly.
+
+"This letter----" began Meriwether Lewis. "Certainly you carried it
+for me--why did you not bring it to me long ago?"
+
+"What letter? Whose letter is it, Merne? I never saw it before. What
+is it you are saying? Are you mad?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Who sends it, Merne. What does it say?"
+
+"It is from the woman whose face I have seen at night, Will. She asks
+me to come back!"
+
+"Burn it--throw it in the fire!" said William Clark sharply. "Go back?
+What, forsake Mr. Jefferson--leave me?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"She had no right----"
+
+"Ah, but that is the cruelty of it--she _did_ have the right!"
+
+"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."
+
+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, he
+found himself on a little eminence of the bluff near by.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Lewis frowned heavily. He could not speak for a time.
+
+"Give the orders to the men to roll out, Captain Clark," said he at
+length.
+
+"Which way, Captain Lewis--upstream or down?"
+
+"The expedition will go forward, Captain Clark."
+
+"God bless you, Merne!" said the red-headed one.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THE DAY'S WORK
+
+
+"Roll out, men, roll out!"
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Myself, sir," said Ordway, "if you please."
+
+"No, 'tis meself, sor," interrupted Patrick Gass.
+
+Pryor, with hand outstretched, also claimed the honor of the difficult
+undertaking.
+
+"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----"
+
+"Yes, sir!"
+
+"Has any boat passed up the river within the last day--for instance,
+while we were away at the hunt?"
+
+"I think not, sir. Surely any one coming up the river would have
+turned in at our camp."
+
+Lewis turned to Gass, to Pryor; but both agreed that no boat could
+have gone by unnoticed.
+
+"And no man has come into the camp from below--no horseman?"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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. _En avant_, 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."
+
+"Sure, the Frenchmans, she'll lead on the line this morning,
+_Capitaine_! 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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"Ho!" said Ordway, usually silent. "Wait rather for us Yankees--we'll
+show you what old Vermont can do!"
+
+"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!"
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+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 seated
+themselves at the long sweeps of the barge, while yet others were
+manning the pirogues.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"We surely must be almost across now!" said some of the men.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"Two weeks on his foot!"
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"_Oui, oui_, the Teton!" exclaimed Drouillard. "I'll not spoke his
+language, me; but she'll be bad Sioux. _Prenez garde, Capitaine,
+prenez garde pour ces sauvages, les Sioux!_"
+
+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
+there were a hundred of them assembled--painted warriors, decked in
+all their savage finery, bold men, showing no fear of the newcomers.
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"He'll said he was Black Buffalo," replied the Frenchman. "I don't
+understand him very good."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+At that moment Lewis gave a loud order, which arrested them all. The
+Sioux turned toward the barge, to see the black mouth of the great
+swivel gun pointing at them--the gun whose thunder voice they had
+heard.
+
+"Big medicine!" called out Black Buffalo in terror, and ordered his
+men back.
+
+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.
+
+"_Croyez moi!_" ejaculated Drouillard. "These Hinjun, she'll think he
+own this country!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE CROSSROADS OF THE WEST
+
+
+The 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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,
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"We open our ears to what Big White has said," replied Lewis--speaking
+through Jussaume, the 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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"It is good," said the Mandan. "_Ahaie!_ 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."
+
+"When the grass is green," said Lewis, "I shall lead my young men
+toward the setting sun. We shall make new trails."
+
+Jussaume, McCracken, and all the others held their own council with
+the leaders of the expedition.
+
+"What are you doing here?" they demanded. "The Missouri has always
+belonged to the British traders."
+
+The face of Meriwether Lewis flushed with anger.
+
+"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."
+
+"Purchase? What purchase?" demanded McCracken.
+
+And then the face of Lewis lightened, for he knew that they had outrun
+all the news of the world!
+
+"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!"
+
+"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!"
+
+"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 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!"
+
+McCracken, irritated, turned away from the talk.
+
+"It is a fine fairy tale they tell us!" said he to his fellows.
+
+Drouillard came a moment later to his chief.
+
+"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."
+
+Lewis smiled.
+
+"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."
+
+"My faith," said Jussaume, the Frenchman, "you come a long way!
+Why you want to go more farther West? But, listen, _Monsieur
+Capitaine_--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!"
+
+"'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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"Agreed, then!" said his master, laughing lustily, for, safe in his
+own sanctuary, he had not seen these 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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 _presto_, before the winter had well
+settled down, the white explorers were housed and fortified and ready
+for what might come.
+
+The Mandans sat and watched them in wonder. Jussaume, the French
+trader, shook his head. In all his experience on the trail he had
+seen nothing savoring quite so much of preparedness and celerity.
+
+Among all the posts to the northward and eastward the word went out,
+carried by dog runners.
+
+"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!
+
+"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!
+
+"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 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.
+
+"We have seen no men like these. They are chiefs, and their medicine
+is strong!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+THE APPEAL
+
+
+"Well 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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"Yes, and a surly brute he is!"
+
+"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 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!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"By the Lord, Merne, you're a genius for getting over new country!"
+
+"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 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.
+
+"What do you mean, Merne? Surely, if I do, you will also!"
+
+"I cannot be sure."
+
+The florid face of William Clark showed a frown of displeasure.
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+Meriwether Lewis turned to his colleague with the sweet smile which
+sometimes his friends saw.
+
+"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."
+
+"Confound it, Merne, you have not been yourself since you got that
+accursed letter in the night last summer!"
+
+"It was unsettling, I don't deny."
+
+"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!"
+
+"It is taboo, Will--that one thing!"
+
+And Clark, growling anathemas on all women, stalked away to find his
+axmen.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The sounds of revelry were heard by the Mandans who came up to the
+gate.
+
+"White men make a medicine dance," they said, and knocked for
+entrance.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+He returned to his own quarters, where he had erected a little desk at
+which he sometimes worked, 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.
+
+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.
+
+     TO CAPTAIN MERIWETHER LEWIS, IN CHARGE OF THE VOLUNTEERS FOR
+     THE DISCOVERY OF THE WEST.--ON THE TRAIL.
+
+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:
+
+     SIR AND FRIEND:
+
+     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?
+
+     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?
+
+     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?
+
+     "I will always be there, Theodosia," you said, "when you are
+     in trouble!"
+
+     You said it stoutly, and I believed it, as a child.
+
+     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!
+
+     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.
+
+     _Meriwether Lewis, come back to us!_ 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.
+
+     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.
+
+     Go on, therefore, if you would ruin me, my father--your own
+     future; but will you go on if you face possible ruin _for
+     your own country_ by so doing? This I leave for you to say.
+
+     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.
+
+     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?
+
+     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!
+
+     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!
+
+Meriwether Lewis sat, his face between his hands, staring down at what
+he saw. Should he go on, or 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?
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Will!" he called to his companion.
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+Meriwether Lewis was folding up the letter. He placed it in the pocket
+of his coat with its fellow, received months ago.
+
+"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."
+
+"Listen, Merne!" replied William Clark. "There is no woman in the
+world worth the misery this one has put on you. It is a thing
+execrable, unspeakable!"
+
+His friend looked him steadily in the eyes.
+
+"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_ did was a thing execrable,
+unspeakable--I, your friend, did that!"
+
+William Clark, more genuinely troubled than ever in his life before,
+was dumb.
+
+"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."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+WHICH WAY?
+
+
+"Which 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?"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Which way, Sacajawea?" asked Meriwether Lewis. "What river is this
+which goes on to the left?"
+
+"Him Ro'shone," replied the girl. "My man call him that. No good!
+_Him_--big river"; and she pointed toward the right-hand stream.
+
+"As I thought, Will," said Lewis, nodding; and again, to the Indian
+girl: "Do you remember this place?"
+
+She nodded her head vigorously and smiled.
+
+"See!"
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"And greater, and more beautiful in every way," assented his
+companion.
+
+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.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Soon we see the mountains!" insisted Sacajawea.
+
+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.
+
+"It is the mountains!" he exclaimed. "There lie the Stonies. They do
+exist! We shall surely reach them! We have won!"
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+"The north wan, she'll be the right wan, _Capitaine_," said Cruzatte,
+himself a good voyageur.
+
+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?
+
+They found the moccasin of an Indian not far from here.
+
+"Blackfoot!" said Sacajawea, and pointed to the north, shaking her
+head.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"If we go up that left-hand stream we shall be lost among the
+mountains," one said. "We shall perish when the winter comes!"
+
+"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."
+
+So Lewis traveled two days' journey up the right-hand fork before he
+turned back, thoughtful.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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!"
+
+"Guard her well," said Lewis anxiously. "Much depends on her. I must
+go on ahead."
+
+He took the French interpreter, Drouillard, and 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.
+
+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.
+
+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 canon.
+
+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.
+
+"The girl was right--this is the river!" said Lewis to his men. "It
+comes from the mountains. We are right!"
+
+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.
+
+Now word went down to the mouth of Maria's 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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"We must leave more plunder here, Merne," said he. "We can't get into
+the mountains with all this."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"We must go on!" was always the cry.
+
+All felt that the summer was going; none knew what might be on ahead.
+
+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 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.
+
+"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.
+
+"She knows, Will!" said Lewis, once more. "We have a guide even here.
+We are the luckiest of men!"
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"We will camp here," said the leader. "We are tired, we have worked
+long and hard!"
+
+"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!"
+
+Without hesitation she pointed out that one of the three forks of the
+Missouri which led off to the westward--the one that Meriwether Lewis
+called the Jefferson.
+
+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.
+
+"Captains make medicine now," said Sacajawea to Charbonneau, her
+husband.
+
+For once more the captains hesitated. There were many passes, many
+valleys, many trails. Which was the way? The men grew sullen again.
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+Lewis thanked him, and the man brought from his 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.
+
+He halted, the old presentiment coming to his mind.
+
+"Is Shannon here?" he asked of the man who had handed him the coat.
+"He was to get my moccasins mended for me."
+
+"No, captain, he is out with Captain Clark," replied Fields, the
+Kentuckian.
+
+"Very well--that will do, Fields."
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+He pushed together yet more closely the burning 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:
+
+     Come back to me--ah, come back! I need you. I implore you to
+     return!
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE MOUNTAINS
+
+
+When 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.
+
+"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."
+
+"What do you mean?" demanded Meriwether Lewis quietly.
+
+"I scarce know. I am worn out, Merne. My men have been driven hard."
+
+"And why not?"
+
+His companion remained silent under the apparent rebuke.
+
+"You don't mean that we should return?" Lewis went on.
+
+"Why not, Merne?" said William Clark, sighing.
+
+"Our men are exhausted. There are other years than this."
+
+Meriwether Lewis turned upon his friend with the one flash of wrath
+which ever was known between them.
+
+"Good Heavens, Captain Clark," said he, "there is _not_ 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!"
+
+Clark's florid face flushed under the sting of his comrade's words;
+but his response was manful and just.
+
+"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."
+
+"You are only weary, Will. It is my turn now," said Meriwether Lewis;
+and he never told his friend of this last letter.
+
+A moment later he had called one of his men.
+
+"McNeal," said he, "get Reuben Fields, Whitehouse, and Goodrich. Make
+light packs. We are going into the mountains!"
+
+The four men shortly appeared, but they were silent, morose, moody.
+Those who were to remain in the camp shared their silence. Sacajawea
+alone smiled as they departed.
+
+"That way!" said she, pointing; and she knew that her chief would find
+the path.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+Pryor nodded his head.
+
+"Sure," said he, "and all the game-trails break off to the south and
+southwest. Follow the elk!"
+
+"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
+aisy enough after they've been done _wance_--but it's the first toime
+that counts!"
+
+"There is no other way, Pat," argued Ordway. "'Tis the rivers that
+make passes in any mountain range."
+
+"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."
+
+Pryor was willing to argue further.
+
+"All the Injuns have said the big river was over there somewhere."
+
+"'Somewhere'!" exclaimed Patrick Gass. "'Somewhere' is a mighty long
+ways when we're lost and hungry!"
+
+"Which is just what we are now," rejoined Pryor. "The sooner we start
+back the quicker we'll be out of this."
+
+"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?"
+
+"I ain't particular. 'Tis time we took this thing into our own hands."
+
+"It's where we're takin' it _now_, Pryor!" said Gass ominously. "A
+coort martial has set for less than that ye've said!"
+
+"Mebbe you couldn't call one--I don't know."
+
+"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!"
+
+"Well, maybe you are right, Pat," said Ordway after a time. And so the
+mutiny once more halted.
+
+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.
+
+"What is it, Captain?" asked Hugh McNeal. "Some game?"
+
+"No, a man--an Indian! Riding a good horse, too--that means he has
+more horses somewhere. Come, we will call to him!"
+
+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.
+
+"His people are that way," said Lewis. "Come!"
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"McNeal," said Lewis, "go back now across the range, and tell Captain
+Clark to bring up the men."
+
+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. He met McNeal
+coming down, bearing the tidings. Sacajawea ran on ahead in glee.
+
+"My people! My people!" she cried.
+
+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.[5]
+
+[Footnote 5: 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+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!]
+
+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.
+
+"Which way, Sacajawea?" Meriwether Lewis once more asked the Indian
+girl.
+
+But now she only shook her head.
+
+"Not know," said she. "These my people. They say big river that way.
+Not know which way."
+
+"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 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."
+
+"No good--no good!" insisted Sacajawea. "That way no good. My brother
+say go that way."
+
+She pointed to the north, and insisted that the party should go in
+that direction.
+
+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.
+
+"That way!" said Sacajawea, still pointing north.
+
+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.
+
+"We will go north," said Lewis.
+
+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.
+
+Charbonneau wanted to remain with the Shoshones, and to keep with him
+Sacajawea, his wife, so recently reunited to her people.
+
+"No!" said Sacajawea. "I no go back--I go with the white chief to the
+water that tastes salt!" And it was so ordered.
+
+Their course lay along the eastern side of the lofty 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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 Perces. 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.
+
+"We will leave our horses here," said Lewis. "We will take to the
+boats once more."
+
+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 Perces,
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Will," said Lewis, "it is done--we are safe now! We shall be first
+across to the Columbia. This--" he shook the Nez Perces' scrawled
+hide--"is the map of a new world!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+TRAIL'S END
+
+
+Where 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.
+
+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.
+
+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!
+
+The men had grown reckless now. Cruzatte, Labiche, Drouillard--all the
+adventurers--sang as they traveled, gayer and more gay from day to
+day.
+
+Always the landscape had fascinating interest for them in its repeated
+changes. They were in a different 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.
+
+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!
+
+Soon, so said the Indians, they would come to ships--canoes with trees
+standing in them, on which teepees were hung.
+
+"Me," said Cruzatte, "I never in my whole life was seen a sheep! I
+will be glad for see wan now."
+
+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.
+
+Here they saw many gulls. As to Columbus these 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.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+"The big flag, Sergeant Gass!" said Lewis.
+
+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.
+
+"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 we must pass the
+winter. In the spring we will make quick time homeward."
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"That's Lewis and Clark!" said Simon Fraser. "They were at the Mandan
+villages. We are beaten!"
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+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 they made that winter, Sacajawea presiding
+over the moccasin-boards, and teaching the men to sew.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Pretty soon, by and by," said the voyageurs, "we will run on the
+river for home once more!"
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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:
+
+     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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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 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.
+
+"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."
+
+"How is your salt, Will?" asked Lewis. "And your powder?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"What is the matter with you, Merne?" grumbled his more buoyant
+companion. "Are you still carrying all the weight of the entire
+world?"
+
+Lewis turned upon his friend with the same patient smile. Both were
+conscious that between them there was growing a thin, impermeable
+veil--something mysterious, the only barrier which ever had separated
+these two loyal souls.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+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?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+THE SUMMONS
+
+
+The 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Yes, Sergeant Ordway?" said he presently, looking up.
+
+Ordway saluted.
+
+"Something for you, sir. It seems to be a letter."
+
+"A letter! How could that be?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Possibly--possibly," said Lewis. His face was growing pale. "That is
+all, I think, Sergeant," he added.
+
+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!
+
+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!
+
+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!
+
+[Illustration: "Her face indeed!"]
+
+And now he read the letter, which covered many closely written sheets:
+
+     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.
+
+     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?
+
+     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.
+
+     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?
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     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 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?
+
+     How can I answer all these questions? Yet they come to my
+     mind as I write.
+
+     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?
+
+     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.
+
+     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?
+
+     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.
+
+     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----
+
+     Ah! let me write slowly here, and think very carefully!
+
+     My greatest wish in this, greater than any ambition I had
+     for myself or my family--_has been for you!_ 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?
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     Moreover, you shall say to yourself always:
+
+     "She asked and I refused her!"
+
+     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 could never wish to hurt you._
+
+     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!
+
+     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?
+
+     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!
+
+     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!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THE ABYSS
+
+
+The 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.
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+"In two hours, Merne," said he, "we will be on our way."
+
+It was now near the end of March. They dated and 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.
+
+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.
+
+The Nez Perces, 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.
+
+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 Perces 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.
+
+"That way," said Sacajawea, pointing, "big falls!"
+
+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 had pondered over this short cut, which the Nez
+Perces knew well.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"That way short path over mountains," said Sacajawea at length, at one
+point of their journey.
+
+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.
+
+"That way," said she, "find boat, find cache!"
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"That way!" she said.
+
+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.
+
+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 canon, found good
+timber, and soon were busy felling great cottonwoods to make dugout
+canoes. Two of these, some 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.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Sergeant Gass," said Captain Lewis, "I am going 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."
+
+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.
+
+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 far more numerous band of
+Blackfeet, lay down to sleep that night in company.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Curse you, turn loose of me!" cried Reuben Fields.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 escaped, leaving the little party of whites
+unhurt, but much disturbed.
+
+"Mount, men! Hurry!" Lewis ordered.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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, 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.
+
+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:
+
+"The captain! I've keeled him--I've keeled the captain--I've shot
+him!"
+
+"What is that you're saying?" demanded Patrick Gass. "If you've done
+that, you would be better dead yourself!"
+
+He reached out, caught Cruzatte's rifle, and flung it away from him.
+
+"Where is he?" he demanded.
+
+Cruzatte led the way back.
+
+"I see something move on the bushes," said he, "and I shoot. It was
+not elk--it was the captain. _Mon Dieu_, what shall we do?"
+
+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.
+
+There were actual tears in the eyes of some of the men as they
+gathered around their commander--tears which touched Meriwether Lewis
+deeply.
+
+"It is all right, men!" said he. "Do not be alarmed. 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!"
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+It was another of the mysterious letters!
+
+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.
+
+He was with his men now, their eyes were on him 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 _corpus
+delicti_ of his crime, still insistent on coming to the eye!
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+After all, mere curiosity as to the nature of that mystery was a small
+matter. It seemed of more worth 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:
+
+     SIR AND MY FRIEND:
+
+     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!
+
+     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, _none the less I
+     must write it_.
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     What need now to ask you to come back? What need to reproach
+     you any further? How could I--how can I--with this terrible
+     thought in my soul that I am writing to a man whose eyes
+     cannot see, whose ears cannot hear?
+
+     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!
+
+     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.
+
+     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 _must_ not!
+
+     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.
+
+     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 _knew_ that you would see
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     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.
+
+     Nay, I _cannot_ stop! How can you mind my garrulous pen--my
+     vain pen--my wicked, wicked, wicked, shameful pen--since you
+     cannot see what it says?
+
+     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 that also go out to the world--I glory in the
+     truth _that I have failed_!
+
+     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 _not_ come back to me.
+     There--have I not said all that a woman could say to a man,
+     living or dead?
+
+     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.
+
+     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 _from_ a man--yes, but they are not the things a woman
+     _loves in_ a man. No; it is the stiff-necked man, bound in
+     his own ambition, whom women love, even as they swear they
+     do not.
+
+     _Therefore, do not come back to me_, 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.
+
+     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, _and I rejoiced that you did not_!
+
+     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
+     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:
+
+     "I hope I shall not be unhappy, for I do not feel that I
+     have been bad."
+
+     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!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE BEE
+
+
+"Captain, 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!"
+
+Gass chuckled at his own jest as his leader looked up at him.
+
+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.
+
+William Clark, walking up and down along the bank, looking ever
+upstream for some sign of his friend, hurried down to meet the boats,
+and gazed anxiously at the figure lifted in the arms of the men.
+
+"What's wrong, Merne?" he exclaimed. "Tell me!"
+
+Lewis waved a hand at him in reassurance, and smiled as his friend
+bent above him.
+
+"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."
+
+By marvel, by miracle, the two friends were reunited once more; and
+surely around the camp fires there were stories for all to tell.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"We must get on!" said he. "We cannot delay."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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 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."
+
+Her face lighted up with a strange wistfulness.
+
+"Yes, Capt'in," said she, "I go with Big White--and you."
+
+He smiled as he shook his head.
+
+"We go farther than that, many sleeps farther."
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"Aw right!" said Sacajawea, in paleface idiom. "Him stay--me go!"
+
+Meriwether Lewis pondered for a time on what fashion of speech he must
+employ to make her understand.
+
+"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 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?"
+
+"Your words are good," said Sacajawea. "But I go, too! No want to stay
+here now. No can stay!"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+A spasm of pain crossed Lewis's face.
+
+"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 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!
+
+"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."
+
+The unwonted tears of an Indian woman were in the eyes which looked up
+at him.
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The little Indian dog, Meriwether Lewis's constant companion, now,
+like Sacajawea, mercifully banished, sat at her side, as motionless
+as she. Both of them, mute and resigned, accepted their fate.
+
+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!
+
+"_Capitaine, Capitaine_, look what I'll found!"
+
+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.
+
+"What is it, Cruzatte?" smiled Lewis.
+
+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.
+
+"Ouch, by gar! She'll bite me with his tail. She's hot!"
+
+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.
+
+Meriwether Lewis held the tiny creature in the palm of his hand.
+
+"Why did you kill it, Cruzatte?" he asked. "It was on its errand."
+
+He turned to his friend who sat near, at the other side.
+
+"Will," he said, "our expedition has succeeded. Here is the proof of
+it. The bee is following our path. They are coming!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"They are coming!" said he again to his friend.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+WHAT VOICE HAD CALLED?
+
+
+They 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+He turned once more and bent down, as if figuring 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.
+
+"Hoh!" he exclaimed at length, almost like an Indian, as if in some
+definite conclusion.
+
+He had run his trail to the end, had finished the problem in the
+ashes.
+
+"Hoh!" his voice again rumbled in his chest.
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Meriwether Lewis knew the place of every man in 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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!
+
+"Shannon!" He heard a hoarse voice command him. "Get up!"
+
+George Shannon, the youngest of the party, sprang out of his bed half
+clad.
+
+"Captain!" He saluted again. "What is it, sir?" he half whispered, as
+if in apprehension.
+
+"Put on your jacket, Shannon. Come with me!"
+
+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.
+
+"What is it, Captain?" he inquired once more.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"You know what I want, Shannon! I want the rest of these--I want the
+last one of them! Give it to me now!"
+
+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.
+
+"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 don't you
+answer?" With sudden and violent strength Lewis shook the boy as a dog
+might a rat. "Answer me!"
+
+"Captain, I cannot!" broke out Shannon.
+
+"What? Then there is another?"
+
+"I'll not answer! I'll stand my trial before court martial, if you
+please."
+
+Again the heavy hand on his shoulder.
+
+"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!"
+
+Shannon laid a hand on the iron wrist.
+
+"How do you know?" he faltered. "Why do you think----"
+
+"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--_you_ 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.
+
+"Give me that letter! I am your officer."
+
+"Captain, I will not!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Yes!"
+
+"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!"
+
+The hand closed at his throat. The boy could not speak, but still
+Meriwether Lewis growled on at him.
+
+"Shannon! Speak! Why have you kept secrets from your commanding
+officer? You have begun to tell me--tell me all!"
+
+The boy's hand clutched at his leader's wrists. At length Lewis loosed
+him.
+
+"Captain," began the victim, "what do you mean? What can I do?"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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!"
+
+With one movement, Meriwether Lewis flung off the uniform coat that
+he wore. They stood now, man to man, stripped, and neither gave back
+from the other.
+
+"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?"
+
+The last cruelty was too much. The boy began to gulp.
+
+"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."
+
+"Is that the reason?"
+
+"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!"
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"What is it, boy?" he whispered at last. "What have I done? What did I
+say?"
+
+Shannon was sobbing now.
+
+"Captain," he said, and thrust a hand into the bosom 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."
+
+Lewis's strained muscles relaxed, his blazing eyes softened.
+
+"Shannon!" he whispered once more. "What have I done?"
+
+He took the letter in his hand, but did not look at it, although his
+fingers could feel the seal unbroken.
+
+"Why do you give it to me now, boy?" he asked at length. "What changed
+you?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Come back--when?"
+
+"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."
+
+"What did she promise you?"
+
+"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."
+
+"When was all this?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Yes, I know, Shannon."
+
+"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?"
+
+"No, Shannon. No! In all this there is but one to blame, and that is
+your officer, myself!"
+
+"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 ought to--that she would want me to. It is the fever,
+sir!"
+
+"Aye, the fever!"
+
+Silence fell as they stood there in the night. The boy went on, half
+tremblingly:
+
+"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----"
+
+And now it was the eye of Meriwether Lewis that suddenly was wet; it
+was his voice that trembled.
+
+"Boy," said he, "I am your officer. Your officer asks your pardon. I
+have tried myself. I was guilty. Will you forget this?"
+
+"Not a word to a soul in the world, Captain!" broke out Shannon.
+"About a woman, you see, we do not talk."
+
+"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?"
+
+"Nothing in the world, Captain--but just one thing."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Please, sir, tell me that you don't think me a coward!"
+
+"A coward? No, Shannon, you are the bravest fellow I ever met!"
+
+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 and
+of remorse--had swept by, so that Lewis once more was officer,
+gentleman, just and generous man.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+     MY FRIEND:
+
+     This is my last letter to you. This is the one I have marked
+     Number Six--the last one for my messenger.
+
+     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 to lay me down,
+     I hope, too, some wilderness of wood or waters will be
+     around me with its vast silences.
+
+     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?
+
+     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 _is_----
+
+               Yours,
+
+                    THEODOSIA.
+
+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.
+
+She had said it--had said that last fated word. Now indeed he knew
+what voice had called to him across the deeps!
+
+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!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE NEWS
+
+
+A 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!
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+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 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!
+
+"Present arms!" rang out a sharp command, as the boats lined up along
+the wharf.
+
+The brown and scarred rifles came to place.
+
+"Aim! Fire!"
+
+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.
+
+"Come with me!"
+
+"No, with me!"
+
+"With me!"
+
+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.
+
+"_Ma foi!_" exclaimed more than one pretty French maiden. "Such
+men--such splendid men--savages, yet white! See! See!"
+
+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, grave and dignified,
+feeling almost for the first time the weight of what they had done?
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+"My matches--my thermometers--my instruments--how did they perform?"
+
+The speaker was Dr. Saugrain, eager to meet again his friends.
+
+"Perfect, doctor, perfect! We have some of the matches yet. As to the
+thermometers, we broke the last one before we reached the sea."
+
+"You found the sea? _Mon Dieu!_"
+
+"We found the Pacific. We found the Columbia, 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."
+
+"The beaver--did you find the beaver yonder?" demanded the voice of a
+swarthy man who had attended them.
+
+It was Manuel Liza, fur-trader, his eyes glowing in his interest in
+that reply.
+
+"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!"
+
+"Your men, will they be free to make return up the river with trading
+parties?"
+
+William Clark smiled at the keenness of the old French trader.
+
+"You could not possibly have better men," said he.
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+"Captain," inquired Chouteau at length, "your luggage, your
+boxes--where are they?"
+
+Meriwether Lewis pointed to a skin parfleche and a knotted bandanna
+handkerchief which George Shannon carried for him.
+
+"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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"We bring them better news than that. What news for us?" asked the two
+captains of their host.
+
+"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----"
+
+"Yes, we did not know of it for two years," said William Clark. "We
+have just heard about it, up river."
+
+"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?"
+
+It was the dark eye of Meriwether Lewis which now compelled his
+attention.
+
+"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."
+
+He did not notice the sudden change in Meriwether Lewis's face.
+
+"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?"
+
+"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!"
+
+"He had many friends," went on Chouteau; "very many friends. They are
+scattered even now all up and down this country--men who will not
+give up their cause. All those men needed was a leader."
+
+"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!"
+
+Chouteau shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"There may be two names for it," he said.
+
+"And every one asked to join the cause was asked to join in treason to
+his country. Is it not so?" Lewis went on.
+
+"There may be two names for it," smiled the other, still shrugging.
+
+"He was my friend," said Meriwether Lewis. "I trusted him!"
+
+"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
+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! _Does_ no one know?"
+
+The captain did not speak, and Chouteau presently went on.
+
+"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--_messieurs_, you two young men, with your
+Lewis and Clark Expedition! It was _you_ who broke the Burr
+Conspiracy--for so they call it in these days. _Messieurs_, that is
+your news!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+THE GUESTS OF A NATION
+
+
+"Attention, men!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Men," said he, "you are to be mustered out today. There will be given
+to each of you a certificate of service 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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"Attention! Aim--fire! Break ranks--march!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The progress to Washington was a triumph. Everywhere their admiring
+countrymen were excited over their marvelous journey. They were feted
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 feted 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.
+
+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.
+
+Toward none of the fair maids who now flocked 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"My son!" said she at length, half as much in terror as in joy.
+"Merne!"
+
+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.
+
+"My son!" was all she could say. "They told me that you never would
+come back, that you were dead. I thought the wilderness had claimed
+you at last, Merne!"
+
+"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."
+
+"And what have you found?"
+
+"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!"
+
+"And you did that? Merne, was _that_ 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?"
+
+"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?"
+
+"You should be, Merne, but are you?"
+
+"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. 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."
+
+"Yes, but are you happy? Turn your face to me."
+
+But he did not turn his face.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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
+our country! My son, that was our vision. You have proved it. You
+have been both dreamer and doer!"
+
+He came up and placed a half playful hand on Meriwether Lewis's
+shoulder.
+
+"Did I know men, then?" he demanded.
+
+"And did I, Mr. Jefferson? Captain Clark----"
+
+"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!"
+
+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!
+
+"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!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+MR. JEFFERSON'S ADVICE
+
+
+"Merne, 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."
+
+"Meaning, Mr. Jefferson?----"
+
+"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."
+
+"I heard some talk in the West, Mr. Jefferson," hesitated Meriwether
+Lewis.
+
+"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. 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."
+
+"We are glad that you have been pleased, Mr. Jefferson," said Lewis
+simply.
+
+"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!"
+
+"And I nearly did, Mr. Jefferson!" broke out Meriwether Lewis. "Do
+not praise me too much. I was tempted----"
+
+The old man turned toward him, his face grave.
+
+"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!"
+
+Lewis nodded, mute.
+
+"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 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."
+
+The bowed head of Meriwether Lewis was his only answer. The keen-faced
+old man went on:
+
+"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--_our_
+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.
+
+"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, through which alone the great
+deeds of the world always have been done."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+"What is it, Merne?" exclaimed the old man. "What have I done?"
+
+"You speak of my honor. Do not! Indeed, you touch me deep."
+
+Thomas Jefferson, wise old man, raised a hand.
+
+"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."
+
+"Mr. Jefferson, I shall never marry."
+
+The two sat looking into each other's eyes for just a moment. Said
+Thomas Jefferson at length, slowly:
+
+"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."
+
+Lewis did not speak.
+
+"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 _her_! Is it not so?"
+
+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.
+
+"She is at Richmond, Merne?" said Mr. Jefferson a moment later.
+
+The young man nodded.
+
+"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."
+
+The thin lips compressed for a moment. It was not in implacable,
+vengeful zeal--it was but in thought.
+
+"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 _not for his daughter_!"
+
+"Mr. Jefferson!" The face of Meriwether Lewis was strangely moved. "I
+see the actual greatness of your soul; but I ask nothing."
+
+"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."
+
+Lewis bowed silently.
+
+"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 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 _politics will try it_! Go to Theodosia,
+Merne, in her desperate need."
+
+"But what can I do, Mr. Jefferson?" broke out his listener.
+
+"Do precisely what I tell you. Go to that social outcast. Take her on
+your arm before all the world--_and before that jury_! 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!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+THE QUALITY OF MERCY
+
+
+In 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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?
+
+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.
+
+Burr advanced to meet his visitor with something of his own old
+haughtiness of mien, a little of the former brilliance of his eye.
+
+"Governor, I am delighted to see you, back safe and sound from your
+journey. My congratulations, sir!"
+
+Meriwether Lewis made no reply, but gazed at him steadily, well aware
+of the stinging sarcasm of his words.
+
+"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."
+
+"You promised them a country, Colonel Burr--from what?"
+
+"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!"
+
+"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!"
+
+"It would seem, sir," said Aaron Burr, a cynical smile twisting his
+thin lip, "that I may not count upon your friendship!"
+
+"That is a hard speech, Colonel Burr. I was your friend."
+
+"More than your chief ever was! I fancy Mr. Jefferson would like to
+see me pilloried, drawn and quartered, after the old way."
+
+"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."
+
+"I am a plain man, and a busy man," said Aaron Burr coldly. "I must
+employ my time now to the betterment 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 _you_, sir, with your cursed expedition, that
+defeated Aaron Burr!"
+
+He turned, proud and defiant even in his failure, and when Meriwether
+Lewis looked up he was gone.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 she--what had been her
+perils? What were her thoughts?
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Yea! Yea! Now I know!"
+
+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 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!
+
+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.
+
+"Sir--Captain--that is to say, Governor Lewis," she corrected herself,
+"I was not expecting you."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"I shall say no word to change that belief," said Meriwether Lewis.
+"But your husband is not here? It is he whom I must see at once."
+
+"Why must you see him?"
+
+"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."
+
+"But--_suppose he does not know_?"
+
+He could only stand silent, regarding her fixedly.
+
+"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!"
+
+"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 _treason_. Tell me, did
+you know this when you came to me?"
+
+He saw the quick pain upon her face, the flush that rose to her pale
+cheek. She drew herself up proudly.
+
+"I shall not answer that!" said she.
+
+"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."
+
+"I only wanted you to be happy--that was my one desire."
+
+She looked aside, and a moment passed before she heard his deep voice
+reply.
+
+"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?"
+
+"_My father's freedom!_"
+
+"I cannot promise that; but all that I can do I will."
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"[6]
+
+[Footnote 6: 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.
+
+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!]
+
+"That is impossible. What do you mean?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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. _Ergo_----"
+
+"_Ergo_, Mr. Jefferson is not hostile to us! And you would do
+that--you would take that chance?"
+
+"For you."
+
+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 his arm, pale, clad all in black, walked the
+daughter of the prisoner at the bar!
+
+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.
+
+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. _Ergo, ergo_, 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Between them, as they stood now at last, about to part, there
+stretched an abysmal gulf which might never personally be passed by
+either.
+
+She faced him at length, trembling, pleading, helpless.
+
+"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!"
+
+"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!"
+
+"I cannot say good-by!" said she. "Ah, do not ask me that! We are but
+beginning now. Oh, see! see!"
+
+He looked at her still, an unspeakable sadness in his gaze--at her
+hand, extended pleadingly toward him.
+
+"Won't you take my hand, Merne?" said she. "Won't you?"
+
+"I dare not," said he hoarsely. "No, I dare not!"
+
+"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!"
+
+"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--because I love you! I always shall. God help me, it is
+the truth!"
+
+"Did you get my letters?" she said suddenly, and looked him fair in
+the face.
+
+Meriwether Lewis stood searching her countenance with his own grave
+eyes.
+
+"_Letters?_" said he at length. "_What letters?_"
+
+Her eyes looked up at him luminously.
+
+"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!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+THE FRIENDS
+
+
+Allied 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.
+
+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.
+
+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 swarm of conflicts over land-titles.
+Scores of new duties arose, and scores of new remedies needed to be
+devised.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+But at last one means of attack was found. Once more--the last
+time--the great heart of a noble man was pierced.
+
+"Will," said he to his friend, as they met at William Clark's home,
+according to their frequent custom, "I am in trouble."
+
+"Fancied trouble, Merne," said Clark. "You're always finding it!"
+
+"Would I might call it fancied! But this is something 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."
+
+"Tut, tut!" said William Clark gravely. "Come, let us see."
+
+"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?"
+
+"But Merne, you, the soul of honor----"
+
+"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."
+
+"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 minute. You are among your friends. Do not
+grieve. 'Twill all come well!"
+
+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:
+
+     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.
+
+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.
+
+In this he was well supported by his friend Dr. Saugrain.
+
+"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 Orleans and the sea. The voyage will do you much good."
+
+"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."
+
+"Your Excellency plans to go by land, then, and not by sea?"
+
+"I do not know. I must save all the time possible. And Peria----"
+
+"Yes, Excellency."
+
+"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."
+
+"Yes, Excellency."
+
+"Do not call me 'Excellency'--I detest the title! I am Governor Lewis,
+and may so be distinguished. 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."
+
+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.
+
+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 _en masse_ to bid him godspeed upon his
+journey.
+
+"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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"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!"
+
+"Governor, see if you can get me an artificial limb of some sort while
+you are in the East."
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Good-by, Will!" said he.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+THE WILDERNESS
+
+
+The 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.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Governor Lewis!" exclaimed Major Neely, as he met him. "You are ill!
+You are in an ague!"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Major," said he, "I can ride now. Have you horses for the journey?"
+
+"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.
+
+"It is not a question of my personal convenience, Major," said
+Meriwether Lewis. "Time presses for me. I must go on!"
+
+"At least you shall not go alone," said Major Neely. "You should have
+some escort. Doubtless you have important papers?"
+
+Meriwether Lewis nodded.
+
+"My servant has arranged everything, I fancy. Can you get an extra man
+or two? The Natchez Trace is none too safe."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"He talks to himself all the time," said one of the 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.
+
+"What is wrong with the Governor, think you?" inquired this man once
+more of Peria, Lewis's servant.
+
+"It is his way," shrugged Peria. "We leave him alone. His hand is
+heavy when he is angry."
+
+"He rides always with his rifle across his saddle?"
+
+"Always, on the trail."
+
+"Loaded, I presume--and his pistols?"
+
+"You may well suppose that," said Peria.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Naturally," grinned Peria.
+
+They looked at one another. And thereafter the two, as was well noted,
+conversed often and more intimately together as the journey
+progressed.
+
+"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
+wear a coat that shows his own quality? This one's a dozen years old,
+you might say."
+
+"He always wears it on the trail," said Peria. "At home he watches it
+as if it held some treasure."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"And what of you, Governor?"
+
+"I shall go on ahead, if you please. Is there no house near by? You
+know the trail. Perhaps we can get lodgings not far on."
+
+"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?"
+
+"Agreed," said Lewis, and setting spurs to his horse, he left them.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"A half-dozen, with an extra horse or two."
+
+"I reckon we can fix ye up. Light down and come in."
+
+She was noting well her guest, and her shrewd eyes 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.
+
+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.
+
+"Set up and eat," she said at last. "I reckon your men are not
+coming."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"Yes. Some of my folks is thinking of going out further into the
+West."
+
+He turned to her abstractedly, yet endeavoring to be courteous.
+
+"A wonderful country, Madam!" said he; and so he fell again into his
+moody staring out beyond the door.
+
+After a time the hostess of the backwoods cabin sought to make up a
+bed for him, but he motioned to her to desist.
+
+"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."
+
+Peria, it seemed, had by this time found his way to the cabin along
+the trail. He was alone.
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"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 Neely? Where are the other men? Why have they not come
+up?"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+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. 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.
+
+It was a face that he had seen before--a hundred times he had gazed
+thus at it on the far Western trails.
+
+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:
+
+     You must not kiss my picture, because I am in your power.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+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. His haggard face was lighted by its flare as he stood
+there, leaning out, listening.
+
+It was then that his doom came to him.
+
+There came the sound of a shot; a second; and yet another.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+He was bleeding from three wounds; but still he stood and spoke to
+her.
+
+"In God's name, Madam," said he, "bring me water! I am killed!"
+
+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.
+
+She heard no sound. She flung open the door and 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+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--_Theodosia!_
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+"Your wish--your great desire--your hope--your dream--all these shall
+be yours at last, even though the trail be long, even though the
+burden be too heavy to carry farther."
+
+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.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+But not her power nor any power could heal such wounds as his. Once
+more she called out for aid, and none came.
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+DOWN TO THE SEA
+
+
+Many 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.
+
+"Your son was a brave man--he lived long," said Peria, haltingly, at
+the close of his story.
+
+"Yes," said the mother of Meriwether Lewis. "He was a brave man. He
+was strong!"
+
+"He was unhappy; but why he should have killed himself----"
+
+"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!"
+
+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
+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.
+
+Soon there came down from Monticello to Locust Hall the coach of
+Thomas Jefferson.
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"Whom had he ever harmed?" she demanded of Jefferson.
+
+"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!"
+
+"Never, Mr. Jefferson, never will I believe that! It was not in his
+nature!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"He never wronged a woman in his life----"
+
+"Precisely, nor in his death would he wrong one! Do you begin to see?"
+
+"Did he ever speak to you of her?"
+
+"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."
+
+"But shall I let that stain rest on his name?" The dark eye of the old
+woman gleamed upon her son's friend.
+
+"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 we shall not ask to know.
+If ever he sinned, he is purged of any sin."
+
+Jefferson was silent for a moment, holding the bereaved mother's hand
+in his own.
+
+"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."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+What of Theodosia Alston, loyal and lofty soul, blameless wife,
+devoted and pathetic adherent to the fallen fortunes of her
+ill-starred father?
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+To this day none knows what was the fate of Aaron 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:
+
+     "I hope to be happy in the next world, for I have not been
+     bad in this."
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+That is the happy ending of his story--his country! It is ours. As its
+title came to us in honor, it is for 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.
+
+
+
+
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+
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+
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+
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+
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+
+
+
+
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+
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+
+ THE COVERED WAGON
+
+ An epic story of the Great West from which the famous
+ picture was made.
+
+ THE WAY OF A MAN
+
+ A colorful romance of the pioneer West before the
+ Civil War.
+
+ THE SAGEBRUSHER
+
+ An Eastern girl answers a matrimonial ad. and goes out
+ West in the hills of Montana to find her mate.
+
+ THE WAY OUT
+
+ A romance of the feud district of the Cumberland country.
+
+ THE BROKEN GATE
+
+ A story of broken social conventions and of a woman's
+ determination to put the past behind her.
+
+ THE WAY TO THE WEST
+
+ Daniel Boone, Davy Crockett and Kit Carson figure in
+ this story of the opening of the West.
+
+ HEART'S DESIRE
+
+ The story of what happens when the railroad came to a
+ little settlement in the far West.
+
+ THE PURCHASE PRICE
+
+ A story of Kentucky during the days after the American
+ Revolution.
+
+ GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Magnificent Adventure, by Emerson Hough
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAGNIFICENT ADVENTURE ***
+
+***** This file should be named 30298.txt or 30298.zip *****
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