XIX

With the head of that column of stalwart backwoodsmen went Dave Yandell

and Erskine Dale. A hunting-party of four Shawnees heard their coming

through the woods, and, lying like snakes in the undergrowth, peered out

and saw them pass. Then they rose, and Crooked Lightning looked at Black

Wolf and, with a grunt of angry satisfaction, led the way homeward. And

to the village they bore the news that White Arrow had made good his

word and, side by side with the big chief of the Long Knives, was

leading a war-party against his tribe and kinsmen. And Early Morn

carried the news to her mother, who lay sick in a wigwam.

The miracle went swiftly, and Kaskaskia fell. Stealthily a cordon of

hunters surrounded the little town. The rest stole to the walls of the

fort. Lights flickered from within, the sounds of violins and dancing

feet came through crevice and window. Clark's tall figure stole

noiselessly into the great hall, where the Creoles were making merry and

leaned silently with folded arms against the doorpost, looking on at the

revels with a grave smile. The light from the torches flickered across

his face, and an Indian lying on the floor sprang to his feet with a

curdling war-whoop. Women screamed and men rushed toward the door. The

stranger stood motionless and his grim smile was unchanged.

"Dance on!" he commanded courteously, "but remember," he added sternly,

"you dance under Virginia and not Great Britain!"

There was a great noise behind him. Men dashed into the fort, and

Rocheblave and his officers were prisoners. By daylight Clark had the

town disarmed. The French, Clark said next day, could take the oath of

allegiance to the Republic, or depart with their families in peace. As

for their church, he had nothing to do with any church save to protect

it from insult. So that the people who had heard terrible stories of the

wild woodsmen and who expected to be killed or made slaves, joyfully

became Americans. They even gave Clark a volunteer company to march with

him upon Cahokia, and that village, too, soon became American. Father

Gibault volunteered to go to Vincennes. Vincennes gathered in the church

to hear him, and then flung the Stars and Stripes to the winds of

freedom above the fort. Clark sent one captain there to take command.

With a handful of hardy men who could have been controlled only by him,

the dauntless one had conquered a land as big as any European kingdom.

Now he had to govern and protect it. He had to keep loyal an alien race

and hold his own against the British and numerous tribes of Indians,

bloodthirsty, treacherous, and deeply embittered against all Americans.

He was hundreds of miles from any American troops; farther still from

the seat of government, and could get no advice or help for perhaps a

year.

And those Indians poured into Cahokia--a horde of them from every tribe

between the Great Lakes and the Mississippi--chiefs and warriors of every

importance; but not before Clark had formed and drilled four companies

of volunteer Creoles.

"Watch him!" said Dave, and Erskine did, marvelling at the man's

knowledge of the Indian. He did not live in the fort, but always on

guard, always seemingly confident, stayed openly in town while the

savages, sullen and grotesque, strutted in full war panoply through the

straggling streets, inquisitive and insolent, their eyes burning with

the lust of plunder and murder. For days he sat in the midst of the

ringed warriors and listened. On the second day Erskine saw Kahtoo in

the throng and Crooked Lightning and Black Wolf. After dusk that day he

felt the fringe of his hunting-shirt plucked, and an Indian, with face

hidden in a blanket, whispered as he passed.

"Tell the big chief," he said in Shawnee, "to be on guard to-morrow

night." He knew it was some kindly tribesman, and he wheeled and went to

Clark, who smiled. Already the big chief had guards concealed in his

little house, who seized the attacking Indians, while two minutes later

the townspeople were under arms. The captives were put in irons, and

Erskine saw among them the crestfallen faces of Black Wolf and Crooked

Lightning. The Indians pleaded that they were trying to test the

friendship of the French for Clark, but Clark, refusing all requests for

their release, remained silent, haughty, indifferent, fearless. He still

refused to take refuge in the fort, and called in a number of ladies and

gentlemen to his house, where they danced all night amid the

council-fires of the bewildered savages. Next morning he stood in the

centre of their ringed warriors with the tasselled shirts of his

riflemen massed behind him, released the captive chiefs, and handed them

the bloody war belt of wampum.

"I scorn your hostility and treachery. You deserve death but you shall

leave in safety. In three days I shall begin war on you. If you Indians

do not want your women and children killed--stop killing ours. We shall

see who can make that war belt the most bloody. While you have been in

my camp you have had food and fire-water, but now that I have finished,

you must depart speedily."

The captive chief spoke and so did old Kahtoo, with his eyes fixed sadly

but proudly on his adopted son. They had listened to bad birds and been

led astray by the British--henceforth they would be friendly with the

Americans. But Clark was not satisfied.

"I come as a warrior," he said haughtily; "I shall be a friend to the

friendly. If you choose war I shall send so many warriors from the

Thirteen Council-Fires that your land shall be darkened and you shall

hear no sounds but that of the birds who live on blood." And then he

handed forth two belts of peace and war, and they eagerly took the belt

of peace. The treaty followed next day and Clark insisted that two of

the prisoners should be put to death; and as the two selected came

forward Erskine saw Black Wolf was one. He whispered with Clark and

Kahtoo, and Crooked Lightning saw the big chief with his hand on

Erskine's shoulder and heard him forgive the two and tell them to

depart. And thus peace was won.

Straightway old Kahtoo pushed through the warriors and, plucking the big

chief by the sleeve, pointed to Erskine.

"That is my son," he said, "and I want him to go home with me."

"He shall go," said Clark quickly, "but he shall return, whenever it

pleases him, to me."

And so Erskine went forth one morning at dawn, and his coming into the

Shawnee camp was like the coming of a king. Early Morn greeted him with

glowing eyes, his foster-mother brought him food, looking proudly upon

him, and old Kahtoo harangued his braves around the council-pole, while

the prophet and Crooked Lightning sulked in their tents.

"My son spoke words of truth," he proclaimed sonorously. "He warned us

against the king over the waters and told us to make friends with the

Americans. We did not heed his words, and so he brought the great chief

of the Long Knives, who stood without fear among warriors more numerous

than leaves and spoke the same words to all. We are friends of the Long

Knives. My son is the true prophet. Bring out the false one and Crooked

Lightning and Black Wolf, whose life my son saved though the two were

enemies. My son shall do with them as he pleases."

Many young braves sprang willingly forward and the three were haled

before Erskine. Old Kahtoo waved his hand toward them and sat down.

Erskine rose and fixed his eyes sternly on the cowering prophet:

"He shall go forth from the village and shall never return. For his

words work mischief, he does foolish things, and his drumming frightens

the game. He is a false prophet and he must go." He turned to Crooked

Lightning:

"The Indians have made peace with the Long Knives and White Arrow would

make peace with any Indian, though an enemy. Crooked Lightning shall go

or stay, as he pleases. Black Wolf shall stay, for the tribe will need

him as a hunter and a warrior against the English foes of the Long

Knives. White Arrow does not ask another to spare an enemy's life and

then take it away himself."

The braves grunted approval. Black Wolf and Crooked Lightning averted

their faces and the prophet shambled uneasily away. Again old Kahtoo

proclaimed sonorously, "It is well!" and went back with Erskine to his

tent. There he sank wearily on a buffalo-skin and plead with the boy to

stay with them as chief in his stead. He was very old, and now that

peace was made with the Long Knives he was willing to die. If Erskine

would but give his promise, he would never rise again from where he lay.

Erskine shook his head and the old man sorrowfully turned his face.