paragon, General Wilkinson?" he demanded
suddenly.

"I have Federal leanings, sir," I answered

"Egad," said he, "we'll add caution to your lack of negative
accomplishments. I have had an eye on you this winter, though you did
not know it. I have made inquiries about you, and hence I am not here
to-night entirely through impulse. You have not made a fortune at the
law, but you have worked hard, steered wide of sensation, kept your mouth
shut. Is it not so?"

Astonished, I merely nodded in reply.

"I am not here to waste your time or steal your sleep," he went on,
giving the log a push with his foot, "and I will come to the point. When
I first laid eyes on this fine gentleman, General Wilkinson, I too fell a
victim to his charms. It was on the eve of this epoch-making trip of
which we heard so glowing an account to-night, and I made up my mind
that no Spaniard, however wily, could resist his persuasion. He said to
me, 'Wharton, give me your crop of tobacco and I promise you to sell it
in spite of all the royal mandates that go out of Madrid.' He went, he
saw, he conquered the obdurate Miro as he has apparently conquered the
rest of the world, and he actually came back in a chariot and four as
befitted him. A heavy crop of tobacco was raised in Kentucky that year.
I helped to raise it," added Mr. Wharton, dryly. "I gave the General my
second crop, and he sent it down. Mr. Ritchie, I have to this day never
received a piastre for my merchandise, nor am I the only planter in this
situation. Yet General Wilkinson is prosperous."

My astonishment somewhat prevented me from replying to this, too. Was it
possible that Mr. Wharton meant to sue the General? I reflected while he
paused. I remembered how inconspicuous he had named me, and hope died.
Mr. Wharton did not look at me, but stared into the fire, for he was
plainly not a man to rail and rant.

"Mr. Ritchie, you are young, but mark my words, that man Wilkinson will
bring Kentucky to ruin if he is not found out. The whole district from
Crab Orchard to Bear Grass is mad about him. Even Clark makes a fool of
himself--"

"Colonel Clark, sir!" I cried.

He put up a hand.

"So you have some hot blood," he said. "I know you love him. So do I,
or I should not have been there tonight. Do I blame his bitterness? Do
I blame--anything he does? The treatment he has had would bring a blush
of shame to the cheek of any nation save a republic. Republics are
wasteful, sir. In Ge