e
Jacobins say, who have been shouting at Mr. Easton's tavern all winter.
Nay, they declare that all this country west of the mountains, too, will
be broken off and set up into a republic, and allied with that most
glorious of all republics, France. Believe me, the Jacobins have not
been idle, and there have been strange-looking birds of French plumage
dodging between the General's house at Clarksville and the Bear Grass."

I was silent, the tears almost forcing themselves to my eyes at the
pathetic sordidness of what I had heard.

"It can come to nothing," continued the Captain, in a changed voice.
"General Clark's mind is unhinged by--disappointment. Mad Anthony[1] is
not a man to be caught sleeping, and he has already attended to a little
expedition from the Cumberland. Mad Anthony loves the General, as we all
do, and the Federal government is wiser than the Jacobins think. It may
not be necessary to do anything." Captain Wendell paused, and looked at
me fixedly. "Ritchie, General Clark likes you, and you have never
offended him. Why not go to his little house in Clarksville when you get
to Louisville and talk to him plainly, as I know you can? Perhaps you
might have some influence."

[1] General Wayne of Revolutionary fame was then in command of that
district.

I shook my head sadly.

"I intend to go," I answered, "but I will have no influence."

CHAPTER II

THE HOUSE ABOVE THE FALLS

It was May-day, and shortly after dawn we slipped into the quiet water
which is banked up for many miles above the Falls. The Captain and I sat
forward on the deck, breathing deeply the sharp odor which comes from the
wet forest in the early morning, listening to the soft splash of the
oars, and watching the green form of Eighteen Mile Island as it gently
drew nearer and nearer. And ere the sun had risen greatly we had passed
Twelve Mile Island, and emerging from the narrow channel which divides
Six Mile Island from the northern shore, we beheld, on its terrace above
the Bear Grass, Louisville shining white in the morning sun. Majestic in
its mile of width, calm, as though gathering courage, the river seemed to
straighten for the ordeal to come, and the sound of its waters crying
over the rocks far below came faintly to my ear and awoke memories of a
day gone by. Fearful of the suck, we crept along the Indian shore until
we counted the boats moored in the Bear Grass, and presently above the
trees on our right we saw