asual student of your race must come
to the same conclusion. You have seen for yourself how they have overrun
and conquered Kentucky and the Cumberland districts, despite a hideous
warfare waged by all the tribes. Your people will not be denied, and
when they get to Louisiana, they will take it, as they take everything
else."

He was a man strong in argument, was Monsieur Gratiot, for he loved it.
And he beat me fairly.

"Nay," he said finally, "Spain might as well try to dam the Mississippi
as to dam your commerce on it. As for France, I love her, though my
people were exiled to Switzerland by the Edict of Nantes. But France is
rotten through the prodigality of her kings and nobles, and she cannot
hold Louisiana. The kingdom is sunk in debt." He cleared his throat.
"As for this Wilkinson of whom you speak, I know something of him. I
have no doubt that Miro pensions him, but I know Miro likewise, and you
will obtain no proof of that. You will, however, discover in New Orleans
many things of interest to your government and to the Federal party in
Kentucky. Colonel Chouteau and I will give you letters to certain French
gentlemen in New Orleans who can be trusted. There is Saint-Gre, for
instance, who puts a French Louisiana into his prayers. He has never
forgiven O'Reilly and his Spaniards for the murder of his father in
sixty-nine. Saint-Gre is a good fellow,--a cousin of the present Marquis
in France,--and his ancestors held many positions of trust in the colony
under the French regime. He entertains lavishly at Les Iles, his
plantation on the Mississippi. He has the gossip of New Orleans at his
tongue's tip, and you will be suspected of nothing save a desire to amuse
yourselves if you go there." He paused interrupted by the laughter of
the others. "When strangers of note or of position drift here and pass
on to New Orleans, I always give them letters to Saint-Gre. He has a
charming daughter and a worthless son."

Monsieur Gratiot produced his tabatiere and took a pinch of snuff. I
summoned my courage for the topic which had trembled all the evening on
my lips.

"Some years ago, Monsieur Gratiot, a lady and a gentleman were rescued on
the Wilderness Trail in Kentucky. They left us for St. Louis. Did they
come here?"

Monsieur Gratiot leaned forward quickly.

"They were people of quality?" he demanded.

"Yes."

"And their name?"

"They--they did not say."

"It must have been the Clives," he cried "it can ha