me from the boldest.

"Citizens of Kaskaskia, know you that the Long Knives come not to
massacre, as you foolishly believed, but to release from bondage. We are
come not against you, who have been deceived, but against those soldiers
of the British King who have bribed the savages to slaughter our wives
and children. You have but to take the oath of allegiance to the
Continental Congress to become free, even as we are, to enjoy the
blessings of that American government under which we live and for which
we fight."

The face of the good priest kindled as he glanced at Clark. He turned
once more, and though we could not understand his words, the thrill of
his eloquence moved us. And when he had finished there was a moment's
hush of inarticulate joy among his flock, and then such transports as
moved strangely the sternest men in our ranks. The simple people fell to
embracing each other and praising God, the tears running on their cheeks.
Out of the group came an old man. A skullcap rested on his silvered
hair, and he felt the ground uncertainly with his gold-headed stick.

"Monsieur," he said tremulously "you will pardon an old man if he show
feeling. I am born seventy year ago in Gascon. I inhabit this country
thirty year, and last night I think I not live any longer. Last night we
make our peace with the good God, and come here to-day to die. But we
know you not," he cried, with a sudden and surprising vigor; "ha, we know
you not! They told us lies, and we were humble and believed. But now we
are Americains," he cried, his voice pitched high, as he pointed with a
trembling arm to the stars and stripes above him. "Mes enfants, vive les
Bostonnais! Vive les Americains! Vive Monsieur le Colonel Clark,
sauveur de Kaskaskia!"

The listening village heard the shout and wondered. And when it had died
down Colonel Clark took the old Gascon by the hand, and not a man of his
but saw that this was a master-stroke of his genius.

"My friends," he said simply, "I thank you. I would not force you, and
you will have some days to think over the oath of allegiance to the
Republic. Go now to your homes, and tell those who are awaiting you what
I have said. And if any man of French birth wish to leave this place, he
may go of his own free will, save only three whom I suspect are not our
friends."

They turned, and in an ecstasy of joy quite pitiful to see went trooping
out of the gate. But scarce could they have reached the street and