I MEET AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE
"I am his Highness's dog at Kew;
Pray tell me, sir, whose dog are you?"
"Allons!" said Mr. Pierre Chouteau, "I will show you the village.
There are yet two hours before Dr. Saugrain's dinner-hour arrives."
We were standing on the wide gallery of Government House, looking up
the Rue de la Tour to the "Fort on the Hill" with its massive round
towers of stone and high stockade. We had made our adieus to Governor
Delassus, and we were quite ready to accept Mr. Chouteau's invitation.
Mr. Gratiot and Mr. Auguste Chouteau excused themselves from
accompanying us on the ground of pressing business, but Mr. Auguste
Chouteau said he hoped soon to see us at his own house, and Mr.
Gratiot promised to meet us at dinner at Dr. Saugrain's.
So it was only four of us who set out (or five, if you count the black
as one), Mr. Chouteau and my captain leading, Dr. Saugrain and I
following, with Yorke trailing in the rear; for Captain Clarke did not
dare leave that ingenious black to his own devices, being well assured
that it would certainly result in disaster to himself or to some of
the habitans.
Diagonally across the street, at the corner of the Rue de la Tour and
the Rue Royale, was a large garden, shut in by solid stone walls
higher than a man's head. Over the top of the walls fell branches of
fruit-trees, and grape-vines still with a few clusters of late grapes
hanging from them. Beyond were the tops of lofty shade-trees, and
between the branches, where the foliage was rapidly thinning, we could
catch glimpses of the stone chimneys and dormer-windows of a great
house.
We turned into the Rue Royale and walked by the stone wall stretching
north a long distance. The morning had been frosty, but the noon sun
was hot, and we were glad to shelter ourselves under the overhanging
boughs. It was Auguste Chouteau's place, but Pierre said he would let
his brother have the pleasure of showing it to us; and we were about
to pass the wide entrance-gate half-way down the long wall when we
were stopped by a strange procession. Out of the gate filed slowly,
solemnly, one at a time, a long line of fantastically dressed Indians.
The two in front were attired alike in shabby old United States
uniforms, with gold epaulets much tarnished and worn, dilapidated gold
lace on collars and sleeves, and wearing on their heads military hats
with long draggled plumes. From thigh to the low moccasins their legs
were entirely unclothed, and a more ludicrous combination than the
civilized coats and the bare brown legs I had never seen. The two in
military coats were evidently chiefs, and were followed by a long line
of braves sweltering under heavy Mackinac blankets, each armed with a
scarlet umbrella in one hand and a palm-leaf fan in the other, to
protect them from the sun. Apparently they did not glance in our
direction, but each one as he passed Mr. Chouteau saluted him with a
guttural "Ugh!" to which Mr. Chouteau responded in the most military
fashion.
"They are on their way to my place, and we will let them get well
ahead of us," Mr. Chouteau said, as the last brave passed us. "It
would hardly be dignified to be trailing in their rear; we will step
into my brother's garden for a moment and give them time to get out of
our way."
The massive gates, which, I saw, could be heavily bolted and barred,
stood open, and we passed through into a park-like inclosure,
beautifully laid out and kept in perfect order, with velvet turf and
noble forest trees, and, in one part, a garden of vegetables and
flowers. Set in the midst was a noble stone mansion some sixty feet in
front, with wide galleries shaded by a projection of sloping roof,
which was pierced by dormer-windows. Several smaller stone buildings
were grouped around it, and from one to the other negroes were passing
on various errands, giving a cheerful impression of industry and
prosperity. I caught the flutter of a white dress disappearing through
a wide door opening from the gallery into the house, and I would have
liked to get a nearer view of the mansion and its inmates. But an
exclamation from Mr. Chouteau put all thoughts of petticoats out of my
mind.
"Diable!" he ejaculated, "'tis Black Hawk himself. Now what is the
meaning of this, think you?"
I followed his glance, and saw coming from one of the outbuildings the
noblest specimen of a savage I had ever beheld. Unlike the others, he
was decked in no worn-out finery of the white man, bestowed upon him
in exchange for valuable furs, but in the fitting costume of a great
chief, his head-dress of eagle feathers falling back from the top of
his head almost to his high beaded moccasins. He was far above the
usual stature of Indians, and what increased his appearance of height
was the lofty brow and noble dome, beneath which two piercing eyes and
strong aquiline nose gave additional character to a most striking
face.
I thought both Mr. Chouteau and Dr. Saugrain looked a little troubled
for a moment, but as the savage stalked majestically toward us, Pierre
advanced to meet him, and with a courteous but commanding wave of his
hand stopped him.
"What has brought my brother from his island on the bosom of the Great
Father of Waters?" he asked, after both had exchanged formal
greetings.
Black Hawk turned his piercing eyes upon my captain. "It was whispered
among my braves," he said, "that the great Captain of the Long Knives
had sent his brother to St. Louis. I bring him a greeting from my
people."
Most men would have been abashed by the ceremonial tone and gestures
with which Black Hawk accompanied his speech, but if my captain felt
any embarrassment he did not show it. With as ceremonious a manner as
the chief's, he replied at once:
"The great chief of the Sacs has honored my brother and myself. I will
bear your greeting to the Captain of the Long Knives, and it will fill
his heart with happiness to know his red brother has not forgotten
him."
Black Hawk only grunted approval, but I think he was pleased, for he
turned to Mr. Chouteau with a more condescending manner:
"I will go with my brother to his wigwam. I will eat with him and
sleep with him."
There was nothing for Mr. Chouteau to do but acquiesce, though when
his back was turned on Black Hawk he made a queer grimace and said
rapidly, in English, which probably Black Hawk did not understand:
"There will be trouble, my friends; my yard is full of Mandans,
Arickarees, and Osages. They love not the Sacs, and Black Hawk is a
turbulent fellow if any misunderstanding should arise. You see," he
said to Captain Clarke, lapsing again into French, "these fellows have
usually started back up the Missouri long before this time, but they
have all waited this year to see the brother of the great Captain of
the Long Knives. They planned their exit from Auguste's yard at the
exact moment to get a good look at you."
My captain laughed his hearty laugh.
"And then they glanced not in my direction even, after all."
"Do not deceive yourself, mon capitaine; they looked you over
thoroughly. Not one of them but would know you again among a thousand.
But they timed their exit also with the hope of making an impression
on you, and to that end, as you saw, had donned their finest toggery."
We had left Auguste Chouteau's yard and were going north again along
the stone wall, Black Hawk stalking majestically beside Captain
Clarke, upon whom he from time to time looked down and bestowed a
grunt of approval. Across the street from us now was an open square
(La Place Publique, Mr. Chouteau called it), and drawn up around it
were many queer little French _charrettes_, loaded with cord-wood and
drawn by small mustangs. The owners of the charrettes were most of
them taking a noonday nap under the shade of the trees in La Place,
and their mustangs were nodding drowsily in their shafts in sympathy
with their owners. This was the same open place we had first come upon
after climbing the bluff, and now, as we came to the corner of La
Place, and the street leading down to the river (Mr. Chouteau said the
street was called La Rue Bonhomme), I looked down the steep road and
saw at the foot of it the landing-place, and our boats tied to great
posts, with some of our men in charge.
I could distinguish on the great flatboat that had followed us,
carrying our provisions and our horses, my own mare, Fatima, with her
proudly arched neck. Before I had time to think of my manners I had
put my fingers to my lips and uttered through them the shrill whistle
with which I had used to call her. Instantly her head was flung
swiftly up, and I saw her start as if to come to me, while up the
bluff was borne her shrill whinnies, high above the shouts of the men,
who had as much as they could do to keep her from breaking halter in
her mad plunge for liberty to answer the call she had never disobeyed.
I was ashamed of my boyish trick, and apologized at once to the two
gentlemen and to my captain. But Dr. Saugrain said it was a fortunate
reminder: if we cared to send for our horses they could meet us at Mr.
Chouteau's, for it would be a long and hot walk from there to his
house at the extreme southern end of the village. So Yorke was
despatched for the two horses, and right glad was I at the thought of
being on Fatima's back once more, for it was a full two weeks since I
had mounted her.
We were on the next block now, skirting another stone wall with
overhanging boughs. Mr. Chouteau said it was his mother's place, and
he would have to insist upon our stopping to pay our respects to her.
"You know," he said, "madame ma mère is a sort of mother to the
village, and she would feel herself deeply aggrieved should such
distinguished guests pass her by."
We entered another inclosure beautifully embowered in trees, and found
a long, low building, not of stone, like her son's house, but built,
in the French fashion, of upright logs. On the wide gallery sat Madame
Chouteau herself, dressed in the style of the habitans who had filled
the streets on our arrival, but in richer materials. Her petticoat
was of black satin, and her short gown, or jacket, was of purple
velvet with wide lace in sleeves and at the neck, and gorgeously
beaded moccasins on her feet. But it was her head-dress which struck
me as the most remarkable part of her costume, and Pierre Chouteau
whispered to us, with a droll grimace:
"Regardez the head-dress of madame; she expects us, is it not? She is
en fête."
It seemed to be a handkerchief of some thin material, purple in color,
and worn like a turban, but entwined with ribbons and flowers until it
became a gorgeous coronet, and added indescribably to the majesty of
her presence. Already over seventy, with white hair, she was yet as
erect as a girl, and her eye was as keen as an eagle's. Even my
captain was abashed before its glances, which seemed to be taking a
complete inventory of his physical, mental, and moral qualities. It
was a bad quarter of an hour for me (whom she hardly deigned to
notice), in spite of the good ratafia and delicious _croquecignolles_
a small black boy brought out on a tray and placed on a stand at her
side, and which she served to us with stately courtesy.
As for Black Hawk, it was more than he could stand when her severely
questioning glance fell upon him. Without losing an ace of his
dignified solemnity of demeanor, he turned his back abruptly on the
old lady, and stalked slowly and majestically down the path and out
the gate. We hoped we had rid ourselves of him, but we found him
waiting for us when we had made our formal adieus to madame. Just
before we reached Pierre Chouteau's house he dropped back and walked
beside Dr. Saugrain and myself. I thought he wished to pay me some of
the respect he had been showing my captain, and I felt flattered
accordingly. But I was mistaken; he had something to say to Dr.
Saugrain. With many premonitory grunts he said it finally, and it had
a startling effect upon the little doctor.
"Let great medicine-man watch," said Black Hawk, solemnly; "White Wolf
will steal Little Black Eyes. Black Hawk has many ears and many eyes;
he has seen White Wolf talking to Red Dog, and he has heard their
whispers."
Such was the doctor's agitation that, although we were just entering
Mr. Chouteau's great yard (so filled with all manner of buildings,
warehouses, shops, and cabins for negroes and Indians that it seemed
like a separate village of itself), he called to my captain and Mr.
Chouteau and begged them to excuse him. He felt that he must return
home at once and assure himself of the safety of his ward, he said,
though we need not cut short our visit to Mr. Chouteau, but come to
him later, in time for dinner. But Yorke coming up at that moment with
our horses, and riding his own, Captain Clarke bade him dismount and
give his horse to Dr. Saugrain, and insisted upon accompanying him
home. Mr. Chouteau readily excused us, only courteously making a
condition that the visit cut short now should be renewed at our
earliest convenience.
As for me, I was a little sorry not to see more of Mr. Chouteau's
place, for everywhere there were throngs of Indians in picturesque
costume, and on the gallery of the great house a bevy of young maidens
evidently awaiting our approach. But Fatima was calling me frantically
with her delighted neighs, and the moment I was on her back, and felt
her silken muscles stretch and tighten rhythmically beneath me, I
cared no more for Mr. Chouteau's interesting place with its Indians
and young maidens, and only longed for a right to leave my companions
and have one good dash with Fatima across country, over fences and
ditches. I would not have been afraid, in my present mood, to have put
her at the high stone walls with which every one in St. Louis seemed
to fence in his place, and so wild with delight was Fatima at meeting
her master once more I think she would have taken them like a bird.
But the doctor was more impatient than I, and first taking Black Hawk
aside for a minute's low-toned consultation, he made his hasty adieus
to our host, and bidding us follow him, he was off. Turning off the
Rue Royale into the Rue Bonhomme, he went up the hill a long block to
the Rue de l'Église, and then, turning to the left, he called back to
us:
"'Tis a straight road from here on, messieurs; shall we race for it?
It may mean more than life to a fair lady."
For answer I laid the reins on Fatima's glossy neck and whispered to
her:
"Get up, Sweetheart!"
In a flash she had passed the two other horses and her dainty hoofs
were flinging the soft dirt of the road in their faces. It was more a
country lane than a village street, with scattered houses
tree-embowered, and just back of Auguste Chouteau's place, which I
recognized from the rear, was a church, and behind it the crosses of
many graves, and beside it a priest's house with two black-robed
priests taking a noonday siesta in comfortable chairs on the shady,
vine-covered gallery. They awoke with a start as Fatima thundered by,
and the two other horses, now well in the rear, pounded after, and I
doubt not they thought it was the beginning of another 1780 affair, so
frightened did they look.
It did not take Fatima long to cover that mile and a half, and when I
saw that we were approaching the stockade at the end of the road, with
only one house between (which, like the Chouteaus', was set in a great
yard inclosed with high stone walls), I drew rein under a
wide-spreading oak and waited for the others. And as I waited I began
once more to wonder what kind of creature Dr. Saugrain's ward could
be: the acknowledged belle of St. Louis and now in some extreme danger
from a white villain and a rascally Indian, for so I had easily
understood Black Hawk's figurative language--the White Wolf and the
Red Dog.
I could hear the soft thrumming of a guitar, and a low voice crooning
songs, of which I could now and then catch a word of the creole
French. I did not doubt it was the doctor's ward who thus beguiled
the hours with melody, and I grew vastly impatient to meet the
loveliest lady in St. Louis and the sweetest of singers, if I could
judge from the snatches of song that floated to my ears.
In a minute more the doctor himself rode up, shouting lustily before
he reached the gate, "Narcisse, Narcisse!" which put a sudden end to
the music. As a black boy ran out in answer to his call, the doctor
sprang as nimbly from his horse as I myself could have done, and flung
the boy his reins with a sharp command to take care of the horses. He
started swiftly for the house, but stopped suddenly and turned to
Narcisse.
"Where are your mistress and mademoiselle?" he asked, in a tone so
sharp and excited the boy was frightened and stammered as he answered:
"In the house, sir."
"You are sure?"
"Yes, sir; 'fore God, sir, they're in the living-room this minute."
"Thank God!" ejaculated the doctor, and then I saw, to my
astonishment, that he was all white and trembling. He recovered
himself in a moment and turned to us with the suavity of a genial
host:
"Gentlemen, I fear that rascal Black Hawk has played us a scurvy
trick; very likely for reasons of his own he wanted to get rid of me.
He has given me a bad quarter of an hour, but otherwise he has only
given me the pleasure of welcoming you a little earlier to Émigré's
Retreat. Let us go find the ladies."
Before we had time to reply, round the corner of the house sauntered
slowly a huge mastiff, and as I caught a glimpse of him my heart sank
into my boots, and there seemed to rise into my throat a tumultuous
beating that was nigh to choking me: not from fear of the dog, though
the moment he caught sight of me he stopped, every muscle tense, the
hair on his mane erect, his eyes red, glowing, vicious, while he
uttered one deep angry growl after another.
It was not fear of the brute that set my pulses throbbing painfully:
it was the truth that flashed upon me for the first time--_Dr.
Saugrain's ward was Mademoiselle Pelagie_! At that moment through the
open door came a clear whistle and the sweetest voice I had ever
heard, calling in ringing tones of command:
"À moi, Leon!"