, his face red
with excitement. He had evidently just risen from table, for he carried a
napkin in his hand, and there were traces of food on his expansive
waistcoat, for he was anything but a dainty feeder. His uncertain gait
showed that he still suffered from the effects of a recent attack of
paralysis.

"By God, Major Washington," he cried, "but I'm glad to see you! I'd begun
to think the French or the Indians had gobbled you up. So you've got
back, sir? And did you see the French?"

"I saw the French, your Excellency," answered Washington, taking his
outstretched hand. "I delivered your message, and brought one in reply.
But first let me present my friend, Mr. Thomas Stewart, who is a neighbor
of mine at Mount Vernon and a man of spirit."

"Glad to meet you, Mr. Stewart," said Dinwiddie, and he gave me his hand
for an instant. "We may have need erelong of men of spirit."

"I trust so, certainly, your Excellency," I cried, and bowed before him.

Dinwiddie looked at me for an instant with a smile.

"Come, gentlemen," he said, "you have been riding all day, I dare say,
and must have some refreshment," but Washington placed a hand on his arm
as he turned to give an order to one of the waiting negroes.

"Not until I have made my report, Governor Dinwiddie," he said.

Dinwiddie turned back to him.

"You're a man after my own heart, Major Washington!" he cried. "Come into
my office, both of you, for, in truth, I am dying of impatience to hear
of the journey," and he led the way into a spacious room, where there was
a great table littered with papers, a dozen chairs, but little other
furniture. The candles were brought, and Dinwiddie dropped into a deep
chair, motioning Washington and myself to sit down opposite him. "Now,
major," he cried, "let us have your story."

So Washington told again of the trip over the mountains and through the
forests, Dinwiddie interrupting from time to time with an exclamation of
wonder or approbation.

"Here is the message from M. de Saint-Pierre," concluded Washington,
drawing a sealed packet from an inner pocket. "'T is somewhat stained by
water, but I trust still legible."

Dinwiddie took it with nervous fingers, glanced at the superscription,
tore it open, and ran his eyes rapidly over the contents. My hands were
trembling, for I realized that on this note hung the issue of war or
peace for America. He read it through a second time more slowly, then
folded it very calmly and