is expedition. Clark had had
acumen once, and lost it; St. Gre was a fool; Nick Temple was leading
purposely a reckless life; the Citizens Sullivan and Depeau had, to say
the least, a limited knowledge of affairs. All of these were responding
more or less sincerely to the cry of the people of Kentucky (every day
more passionate) that something be done about Louisiana. But Gignoux
seemed of a different feather. Moreover, he had been too shrewd to deny
what Colonel Clark would have denied in a soberer moment,--that St. Gre
and Nick had gone to New Orleans.

"You not spik, Monsieur. You not think they have success. You are not
Federalist, no, for I hear you march las night with your frien',--I hear
you wave torch."

"You make it your business to hear a great deal, Monsieur Gignoux," I
retorted, my temper slipping a little.

He hastened to apologize.

"Mille pardons, Monsieur," he said; "I see you are Federalist--but drunk.
Is it not so? Monsieur, you tink this ver' silly thing--this
expedition."

"Whatever I think, Monsieur," I answered, "I am a friend of General
Clark's."

"An enemy of ze cause?" he put in.

"Monsieur," I said, "if President Washington and General Wayne do not
think it worth while to interfere with your plans, neither do I."

I left him abruptly, and went back to my long-delayed affairs with a
heavy heart. The more I thought, the more criminally foolish Nick's
journey seemed to me. However puerile the undertaking, De Lemos at
Natchez and Carondelet at New Orleans had not the reputation of sleeping
at their posts, and their hatred for Americans was well known. I sought
General Clark, but he had gone to Knob Licks, and in my anxiety I lay
awake at nights tossing in my bed.

One evening, perhaps four days after Nick's departure, I went into the
common room of the tavern, and there I was surprised to see an old
friend. His square, saffron face was just the same, his little jet eyes
snapped as brightly as ever, his hair--which was swept high above his
forehead and tied in an eelskin behind--was as black as when I had seen
it at Kaskaskia. I had met Monsieur Vigo many times since, for he was a
familiar figure amongst the towns of the Ohio and the Mississippi, and
from Vincennes to Anse a la Graisse, and even to New Orleans. His
reputation as a financier was greater than ever. He was talking to my
friend, Mr. Marshall, but he rose when he saw me, with a beaming smile.

"Ha, it is Davy," he cried, "b