igger
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 what