On that day, and for many days more, that street was thronged with warriors. Chiefs in gala dress strutted up and down, feathered and plumed and blanketed, smeared with paint, bedecked with rude jewellery,--earrings and bracelets. From the remote forests of the north they had come, where the cold winds blow off the blue lakes; from the prairies to the east; from the upper running waters, where the Mississippi flows clear and undefiled by the muddy flood; from the villages and wigwams of the sluggish Wabash; and from the sandy, piny country between the great northern seas where Michilimackinac stands guard alone,--Sacs and Foxes, Chippeways and Maumies and Missesogies, Puans and Pottawattomies, chiefs and medicine men.
Well might the sleep of the good citizens be disturbed, and the women fear to venture to the creek with their linen and their paddles!
The lives of these people hung in truth upon a slender thing--the bearing of one man. All day long the great chiefs sought an audience with him, but he sent them word that matters would be settled in the council that was to come. All day long the warriors lined the picket fence in front of the house, and more than once Tom McChesney roughly shouldered a lane through them that timid visitors might pa.s.s. Like a pack of wolves, they watched narrowly for any sign of weakness. As for Tom, they were to him as so many dogs.
"Ye varmints!" he cried, "I"ll take a blizz"rd at ye if ye don"t keep the way clear."
At that they would give back grudgingly with a chorus of grunts, only to close in again as tightly as before. But they came to have a wholesome regard for the sun-browned man with the red hair who guarded the Colonel"s privacy. The boy who sat on the door-step, the son of the great Pale Face Chief (as they called me), was a never ending source of comment among them. Once Colonel Clark sent for me. The little front room of this house was not unlike the one we had occupied at Kaskaskia.
It had bare walls, a plain table and chairs, and a crucifix in the corner. It served as dining room, parlor, bedroom, for there was a pallet too. Now the table was covered with parchments and papers, and beside Colonel Clark sat a grave gentleman of about his own age. As I came into the room Colonel Clark relaxed, turned toward this gentleman, and said:--
"Monsieur Gratiot, behold my commissary-general, my strategist, my financier." And Monsieur Gratiot smiled. He struck me as a man who never let himself go sufficiently to laugh.
"Ah," he said, "Vigo has told me how he settled the question of paper money. He might do something for the Congress in the East."
"Davy is a Scotchman, like John Law," said the Colonel, "and he is a master at perceiving a man"s character and business.
"What would you call me, at a venture, Davy?" asked Monsieur Gratiot.
He spoke excellent English, with only a slight accent.
"A citizen of the world, like Monsieur Vigo," I answered at a hazard.
"Pardieu!" said Monsieur Gratiot, "you are not far away. Like Monsieur Vigo I keep a store here at Cahokia. Like Monsieur Vigo, I have travelled much in my day. Do you know where Switzerland is, Davy?"
I did not.
"It is a country set like a cl.u.s.ter of jewels in the heart of Europe,"
said Monsieur Gratiot, "and there are mountains there that rise among the clouds and are covered with perpetual snows. And when the sun sets on those snows they are rubies, and the skies above them sapphire."
"I was born amongst the mountains, sir," I answered, my pulse quickening at his description, "but they were not so high as those you speak of."
"Then," said Monsieur Gratiot, "you can understand a little my sorrow as a lad when I left it. From Switzerland I went to a foggy place called London, and thence I crossed the ocean to the solemn forests of the north of Canada, where I was many years, learning the characters of these gentlemen who are looking in upon us." And he waved his arm at the line of peering red faces by the pickets. Monsieur Gratiot smiled at Clark. "And there"s another point of resemblance between myself and Monsieur Vigo."
"Have you taken the paper money?" I demanded.
Monsieur Gratiot slapped his linen breeches. "That I have," and this time I thought he was going to laugh. But he did not, though his eyes sparkled. "And do you think that the good Congress will ever repay me, Davy?"
"No, sir," said I.
"Peste!" exclaimed Monsieur Gratiot, but he did not seem to be offended or shaken.
"Davy," said Colonel Clark, "we have had enough of predictions for the present. Fetch this letter to Captain Bowman at the garrison up the street." He handed me the letter. "Are you afraid of the Indians?"
"If I were, sir, I would not show it," I said, for he had encouraged me to talk freely to him.
"Avast!" cried the Colonel, as I was going out. "And why not?"
"If I show that I am not afraid of them, sir, they will think that you are the less so."
"There you are for strategy, Gratiot," said Colonel Clark, laughing.
"Get out, you rascal."
Tom was more concerned when I appeared.
"Don"t pester "em, Davy," said he; "fer G.o.d"s sake don"t pester "em.
They"re spoilin" fer a fight. Stand back thar, ye critters," he shouted, brandishing his rifle in their faces. "Ugh, I reckon it wouldn"t take a horse or a dog to scent ye to-day. Rank b"ar"s oil! Kite along, Davy."
Clutching the letter tightly, I slipped between the narrowed ranks, and gained the middle of the street, not without a quickened beat of my heart. Thence I sped, dodging this group and that, until I came to the long log house that was called the garrison. Here our men were stationed, where formerly a squad from an English regiment was quartered. I found Captain Bowman, delivered the letter, and started back again through the brown, dusty street, which lay in the shade of the great forest trees that still lined it, doubling now and again to avoid an idling brave that looked bent upon mischief. For a single mischance might set the tide running to ma.s.sacre. I was nearing the gate again, the dust flying from my moccasined feet, the sight of the stalwart Tom giving me courage again. Suddenly, with the deftness of a panther, an Indian shot forward and lifted me high in his arms. To this day I recall my terror as I dangled in mid-air, staring into a hideous face. By intuition I kicked him in the stomach with all my might, and with a howl of surprise and rage his fingers gripped into my flesh. The next thing I remember was being in the dust, suffocated by that odor which he who has known it can never forget. A medley of discordant cries was in my ears. Then I was s.n.a.t.c.hed up, b.u.mped against heads and shoulders, and deposited somewhere. Now it was Tom"s face that was close to mine, and the light of a fierce anger was in his blue eyes.
"Did they hurt ye, Davy?" he asked.
I shook my head. Before I could speak he was at the gate again, confronting the mob of savages that swayed against the fence, and the street was filled with running figures. A voice of command that I knew well came from behind me. It was Colonel Clark"s.
"Stay where you are, McChesney!" he shouted, and Tom halted with his hand on the latch.
"With your permission, I will speak to them," said Monsieur Gratiot, who had come out also.
I looked up at him, and he was as calm as when he had joked with me a quarter of an hour since.
"Very well," said Clark, briefly.
Monsieur Gratiot surveyed them scornfully.
"Where is the Hungry Wolf, who speaks English?" he said.
There was a stir in the rear ranks, and a lean savage with abnormal cheek bones pushed forward.
"Hungry Wolf here," he said with a grunt.
"The Hungry Wolf knew the French trader at Michilimackinac," said Monsieur Gratiot. "He knows that the French trader"s word is a true word. Let the Hungry Wolf tell his companions that the Chief of the Long Knives is very angry."
The Hungry Wolf turned, and began to speak. His words, hoa.r.s.e and resonant, seemed to come from the depths of his body. Presently he paused, and there came an answer from the fiend who had seized me. After that there were many grunts, and the Hungry Wolf turned again.
"The North Wind mean no harm," he answered. "He play with the son of the Great White Chief, and his belly is very sore where the Chief"s son kicked him."
"The Chief of the Long Knives will consider the offence," said Monsieur Gratiot, and retired into the house with Colonel Clark. For a full five minutes the Indians waited, impa.s.sive. And then Monsieur Gratiot reappeared, alone.
"The Chief of the Long Knives is mercifully inclined to forgive," he said. "It was in play. But there must be no more play with the Chief"s son. And the path to the Great Chief"s presence must be kept clear."
Again the Hungry Wolf translated. The North Wind grunted and departed in silence, followed by many of his friends. And indeed for a while after that the others kept a pa.s.sage clear to the gate.
As for the son of the Great White Chief, he sat for a long time that afternoon beside the truck patch of the house. And presently he slipped out by a byway into the street again, among the savages. His heart was b.u.mping in his throat, but a boyish reasoning told him that he must show no fear. And that day he found what his Colonel had long since learned to be true that in courage is the greater safety. The power of the Great White Chief was such that he allowed his son to go forth alone, and feared not for his life. Even so Clark himself walked among them, nor looked to right or left.
Two nights Colonel Clark sat through, calling now on this man and now on that, and conning the treaties which the English had made with the various tribes--ay, and French and Spanish treaties too--until he knew them all by heart. There was no haste in what he did, no uneasiness in his manner. He listened to the advice of Monsieur Gratiot and other Creole gentlemen of weight, to the Spanish officers who came in their regimentals from St. Louis out of curiosity to see how this man would treat with the tribes. For he spoke of his intentions to none of them, and gained the more respect by it. Within the week the council began; and the scene of the great drama was a field near the village, the background of forest trees. Few plays on the world"s stage have held such suspense, few battles such excitement for those who watched. Here was the spectacle of one strong man"s brain pitted against the combined craft of the wilderness. In the midst of a stretch of waving gra.s.s was a table, and a young man of six-and-twenty sat there alone. Around him were ringed the gathered tribes, each chief in the order of his importance squatted in the inner circle, their blankets making patches of bright color against the green. Behind the tribes was the little group of hunting shirts, the men leaning on the barrels of their long rifles, indolent but watchful. Here and there a gay uniform of a Spanish or Creole officer, and behind these all the population of the village that dared to show itself.
The ceremonies began with the kindling of the council fire,--a rite handed down through unknown centuries of Indian usage. By it nations had been made and unmade, broad lands pa.s.sed, even as they now might pa.s.s.
The yellow of its crackling flames was shamed by the summer sun, and the black smoke of it was wafted by the south wind over the forest. Then for three days the chiefs spoke, and a man listened, unmoved. The sound of these orations, wild and fearful to my boyish ear, comes back to me now.
Yet there was a cadence in it, a music of notes now falling, now rising to a pa.s.sion and intensity that thrilled us.