Greatly to my disappointment, I saw only the stately form of the Catholic bishop. Ushered by an attendant, the priest made his way with serene dignity through the laughing, chattering crowds whom he was to address.
My heart sank into my boots. The service had begun, the hall was packed almost to suffocation, the bishop had arrived, and still the señorita failed to appear. To have kept waiting longer the nearest of the ladies who had signalled to me for my chair would have been most ungracious. I turned to speak to the lady's friend, hesitated, and turned back for a last look at the entrance.
A rawboned Irishwoman was thrusting her way in through a group of men, who seemed none too willing to give passage to her. The plainness of her dress was enough of explanation for that, even had not the crowd been so close. As she paused for breath, her big face red from exertion and the quick anger of her race, it flashed upon me what a just mockery of the beaux' gallantry it would be to give the woman my cherished seat. No sooner had the thought entered my head than I caught her eye and beckoned her to the chair.
The woman stared. I nodded and repeated my gesture. Promptly she pushed a little to one side and turned half about. The movement brought to my view the figure of another woman who had followed her in. My heart sprang into my throat. Though the face of the second woman was downbent and her dress all of black, it was enough for my enlightenment that the covering of her graceful head was a Spanish mantilla.
At a word from the Irish woman she looked up and toward me, and I thrilled at the level gaze of her glorious eyes. I bowed and pointed to my chair. Without a sign of recognition she turned to look across the hall. Unmasked to the men about her by the changed position of her attendant, they were already making room for her beauty where the rude strength of the woman had met with counter elbowing. Nine in ten of those who surrounded her would gladly have given her their seats had they been in possession of chair or bench. But mine was the only vacant seat in the hall. The Irishwoman, who stood half a span taller even than the señorita, had already perceived the fact. I saw her bend to whisper.
This time the señorita met my salute with a slight bow of recognition, and advanced toward me, followed closely by her duenna. Had there been no other ladies in the throng her passage would have been along an open lane of admiring gallants. But not until she was within arm's-length did I dare step down from my post of defence to meet her. We alike had the other ladies to face and avoid. Half a dozen beaux were already before me to proffer their assistance. I thrust aside the nearest and offered my hand.
She placed her gloved fingers in my big palm and stepped up, without so much as a word or a glance. For all that I found myself in an exultant glow. Had I not had the forethought to procure the chair for her? and, what was far more, had I not exercised sufficient courage to retain it for her, despite the other ladies? The big Irishwoman gave me a glance as kindly as it was shrewd, and took up her position beside me, her coal-scuttle bonnet on a level with my curls.
Having done the señorita a service, it seemed to me fitting that I should wait for her to speak before pressing her with further attentions. Accordingly I stood with unturned head, gazing across toward the Speaker's stand, and drinking in with appreciative ears the sonorous bars of "Columbia."
With the last note of the national anthem ringing in my ears I became aware of a far more musical sound,—the low-pitched voice of the señorita: "There is space for one to stand beside the chair. Dr. Robinson has my permission to step up and discover for me if Mrs. Merry is present."
"Dr. Robinson accepts the invitation of Señorita Vallois with pleasure," I replied, hoping to bring a smile to the scarlet lips. They did not bend, and I could see nothing but hauteur in her pale face and the drooping lashes of her eyes. I stepped up into the narrow space beside the chair, but it was not to stare about in search of Mrs. Merry.
"You do not look," she said with a trace of impatience.
"There is no need," I replied, my gaze downbent upon her cheek.
"No need?"
"The wife of the British Minister is not here."
"You have heard that she is ill?"
"No, señorita."
"Then how should you know that she is not here?"
"Because I have looked into the face of every lady present."
She smiled with a touch of scorn. "I had not thought the American gentlemen so gallant!"
"I looked into the faces of all, señorita, searching for one."
To this she made no reply; and I, fearing that I had gone too far, stood silent, under pretence of listening to the service. It was indeed a pretence, for had I been in sober earnest I could have heard little other than the band above the whispering and giggling all about the room, the occasional loud talk in the lobbies, and the open laughter and conversation of the young ladies and their lovers warming themselves at the fireplaces. Throughout the service these gay young couples came and went from their seats whenever the ladies felt chilled or took the whim, the freedom of their movements seemingly limited only by the closeness of the aisles.
When the time came for the bishop to preach there was a lull, owing to his stately appearance and forceful oratory. The lull was brief. Once more the young couples fell to whispering and tittering. A group of Representatives and a Senator near us began a muttered disputation about the question of naval appropriations. The señorita bent forward, straining her ears to catch the words of the bishop. It was hopeless. In the most favorable circumstances the Hall of Representatives has a bad name for its wretched acoustic properties.
In the midst, at the stroke of noon, the attendant who had brought my chair, came in with a great sack and, escorted by an officer of the House, passed across the hall through the thick of the throng to the letter-box on the far side. Having emptied the box, he returned with his official escort in the same fashion, the bag on his shoulder bulging with letters. The spectacle did not tend to lessen the lively spirits of the assembly.
For the first time since I had taken my place beside her the señorita looked up at me. Her face was still cold, but in the sombre depths of her eyes glowed a fire of anger.
"Is it so you republican heretics meet the words of a most venerable prelate?" she demanded.
"From what I hear, señorita, preachers of other churches receive, if anything, still less consideration than this."
"It is a mockery of worship!"
"With the thoughtless, perhaps. I see many who listen. Another time it would be advisable to come early and find a seat nearer the speaker."
"There will be no other time."
"Señorita!" I murmured, "you leave?"
"Within the week."
"So soon! You go by water. Would that I were a sailor in the West Indian trade!"
She gave me a curious glance. "Why in the West Indian trade?"
"Ships carry passengers. Aboard even the greatest of ships the sailors have glimpses of the passengers."
"Sometimes passengers stay below, in the cabin," she said coldly.
"That may well be in times of storm," I replied. "Then the sailor is above, striving to save those who are in his care from shipwreck. But in the warm waters of the Gulf the passengers show themselves on deck, pleased to leave the narrow bounds of their staterooms."
"There are some who would rather stifle in their staterooms than be stared at by the common herd."
"There are others, born in state, who would rather stand beneath the open sky, side by side with a true man, than share the tinsel display of kings," I persisted.
"Rousseau is somewhat out of style."
"No less is royalty."
"The French murdered their king, and God sent them a tyrant."
"A tyrant not for France alone. All Europe trembles at the word of the Corsican."
"And your country, the glorious free Republic."
The bitter words forced past my lips: "My country writhes and bends beneath the insults of the fighting bullies, and clutches eagerly at the price of shame,—the carrying trades of the world."
She raised her eyes to mine, grave but no longer scornful. "At last I have found an American!"
"There are others beyond the Alleghanies. We of the West are not sold to the shipping trade."
"No; you do not take by commerce. You have ever been given to taking by force."
"We have conquered the Indian with our rifles, and the wilderness with our axes."
"Yet you turned to your East for it to buy you Louisiana, through a conspiracy with that arch-liar the Corsican!"
"No conspiracy, señorita! It is well known that Napoleon bought Louisiana from Spain for the sole purpose of extending his empire to the New World. It was the fear of losing New Orleans to England that induced him to sell the Territory to us—that alone."
"Yet he had given his pledge to my country not to sell!"
"Let your people look to it that he does not sell Spain itself."
"Ah, my poor country!" she murmured, and her head sank forward.
"I had gathered that your uncle was among those who seek to free Mexico from Spanish rule," I said.
"Those whose misrule rests so heavily upon my people in New Spain have little more regard for the welfare of my people in the mother country."
Again there was silence between us, this time until the close of the bishop's sermon. As the prelate left the stand, the Irishwoman turned about with an expectant look.
"Enough of this mockery!" said the señorita.
I stepped down at the word, and had the pleasure of receiving her hand the second time. She made no objection to my escorting her from the hall and to the outer door. In the portico she stopped for the Irishwoman to come up on her other hand.
"You have my thanks, señor," she said.
I was not prepared to receive my dismissal so soon.
"With your kind permission, señorita, I will see you to your door," I ventured, astonished at my own audacity.
Whatever her own feeling, she turned without so much as a lift of her black eyebrows, and signed the woman to drop behind again. We descended the marble steps together, and passed down a side street. She walked as she spoke, flowingly, her step the perfect poetry of motion as her voice was the poetry of sound. Her mere presence at my side should have been enough to content me. But my thoughts returned to the dismal news of her intended departure.
"You go within the week?" I questioned.
"Without regret," she replied.
I passed over the thrust. "You have been nowhere. It must have been dull."
"Less so than may be thought. I have spent much of my time in the company of Mrs. Merry."
"Lord have mercy upon us!" I mocked. "If you have been imbibing the opinions of the Lady of the British Legation—!"
"I have heard some sharp truths regarding the ridiculousness of your republican regime."
"And could tell of as many, from your own observation, regarding the Court of St. James."
It was a chance shot, but it hit the mark.
"I had not thought you so quick," she said, with a note of sincerity under the mockery.
"I am not quick, señorita," I replied. "It is no more than the reflection of your own wit."
"That does not ring true."
"It is true that you raise me above my dull self."
"Have I said that I have found you dull?"
"I have never succeeded in acquiring the modish smartness of the gallants and the wits."
"That, señor, is beyond the power of a man to acquire." I looked for mockery in her eyes, and saw only gravity. The scarlet lips were curved in scorn, but not of myself. "It is only those born as brainless magpies who can chatter. You were right when you said that I could tell of truths from my own observation. I left England with as little regret as I shall—"
"Do not say it, señorita!" I protested.
"You Americans! You have the persistence of the British, with no small share of French alertness!"
"We are a mixed people—" I began.
"Mongrel!" she thrust at me, with a flash of hauteur.
"Not so ill a name for a race," I replied. "History tells of a people called Iberians. The Ph[oe]nicians and Carthagenians landed on their shores. Then came the Romans; later, the barbaric hordes from the North,—Goths, Vandals, Suevi; later still, the Moors."
The last was too much for her restraint. "Moors!—Moors! Mohammedan slaves!" she exclaimed. "We drove them out—man, woman, and child—before your land was so much as discovered."
"Yet not before they had done what little could be done toward civilizing barbaric Europe, and not before their blood had mingled—"
"Santisima Virgen!" she cried, in a passion which was all the more striking for the restraint that held it in leash—"I, a daughter of such blood!—you say it?"
"I do not say it, señorita," I replied, with such steadiness as I could command under the flashing anger of her glance.
"Then what?" she demanded.
"I spoke of your race in general, señorita. There are self-evident facts. Even were the fact which you so abhor true as to yourself, would your eyes be any the less wondrously glorious? Your dusky hair—"
She burst into a rippling laugh, more musical than the notes of any instrument. "Santa Maria!" she murmured. "You miss few opportunities—for an Anglo-American!"
"A man asks only for reasonable opportunities, señorita,—a fair field and no favors."
"The last is easy to grant."
"You mean—?"
"No favors."
She had me hard. I rallied as best I could. "But a fair field—?"
"Can there be such?" she countered. "You are Anglo-American; I am Spanish."
"Vallois has a French sound."
Her chin rose a trifle higher. "It is a name that crowns the most glorious pages in the history of France."
I thought of St. Bartholomew, and smiled grimly. "I, too, can trace back to one ancestor of French blood. He died by command of Charles de Valois. He was a shoemaker and a Huguenot."
She looked at me with a level gaze. "It is evident you are one who does not fear to face the truth. You have yourself named the barrier and the gulf between us."
"Barriers have been leaped; gulfs spanned."
"None such as these!"
"Señorita, we each had four grandparents, they each had four. That is sixteen in the fourth generation back. How many in ten generations? Who can say he is of this blood or that?"
"I do not pretend to the skill to refute specious logic, and—here is the gate. My thanks to you."
"Señorita!" I protested.
"Adios, señor! Open your eyes to the barrier and the gulf."
"I see them, and they shall not stop me from crossing!" Again I encountered the inscrutable glance that opened to me the darkness in the fathomless depths of her eyes. "I swear it!" I vowed.
Still gazing full at me, she replied: "It may be that in the Spring we shall pass through New Orleans."
I would have protested—asked for a word more to add to this meagre information. But she turned in at the gate, and the Irishwoman was at my elbow.
"Till then, if not before,au revoir, señorita!" I called in parting.
She did not glance about or speak.
Three days of waiting was the utmost I could force myself to endure. On the afternoon of the fourth I called at the house on the side street. The door was opened by the Irishwoman, who met me with a broad grin.
"Oi looked for ye sooner, sor!" was her greeting.
"Señorita Vallois—?"
"Flown, sor,—more's th' pity! Ye're a loikely lad, sor, if ye'll oxcuse th' liberty."
"Gone?" I muttered. "Her uncle—?"
"Came an' packed her off, bag an' baggage, two days gone."
"Two days!—Where?"
"'Tis yersilf, sor, is to foind out th' same," she chuckled.
I held out a piece of silver. "Will that jog your memory, mistress?"
"Divil take ye!" she cried, and she struck the quarter dollar from my hand. "Am Oi a black traitor to sell a fellay Christian to a heretic?"
After that there was nothing to do but turn on my heel and leave the virago. By one false move I had lost her friendship beyond recall.
For weeks I sought to trace the señorita and her uncle. All I could discover was that the don had come from Philadelphia in his private coach, called at the British Legation, and carried away his niece by a route unknown.
Left with no more than that doubtful mention of New Orleans, I plunged back into the social swim of the Federal City; not to forget her,—that I could not have done had I wished,—but to wear away the months of waiting and to perfect myself in the social graces so far as lay within my capacity.
At the same time I did not forget to press my application with Secretary Dearborn and other members of the Government, who, I found, were all too ready to forget me. It was a hopeless quest, and I was well assured of the fact before midwinter. Yet it served its part as a time-killer; and the season being too far advanced for the descent of the Ohio by boat, it was far more agreeable as well as advantageous for me to while away my enforced holiday in Washington than needlessly to punish myself by the long and wearisome horseback journey to the Mississippi.
So I lingered on, dancing attendance on officials who frowned, and dancing the minuet with ladies who smiled. Each served its purpose in carrying me over what would otherwise have been a most tedious winter.
March came and dragged along more than the due number of weeks of foul weather. Yet with the approach of the vernal equinox I began to overhaul my buckskins. Being well able to imagine the state of the roads, I had started a chest with the bulk of my wardrobe by wagon to Pittsburg ten days in advance, and all my preparations had been made to follow after, when the post from Philadelphia brought me a letter which caused me to change my plans in a twinkling. I should rather have termed the missive a note. It was without date, and ran thus:
"If Dr. Robinson is interested in learning of a project contemplated by two parties whom he met at dinner,—to wit, a certain foreign gentleman and the writer,—he will, on his return West, come by way of Philadelphia, and call upon the writer.A. B."
"If Dr. Robinson is interested in learning of a project contemplated by two parties whom he met at dinner,—to wit, a certain foreign gentleman and the writer,—he will, on his return West, come by way of Philadelphia, and call upon the writer.
A. B."
Much as this language smacked of intrigue, I had no hesitancy in changing my route to comply with the note. It was not that I felt any interest in the projects of Colonel Burr or his associates. The point was that to my mind "foreign gentleman" spelled "señor," and I had met but one señor at dinner in the company of Aaron Burr. If señor, why not señorita? The rest follows as a matter of course.
My faithful nag had not gone unridden through the winter. A man does not always give over the habit of a daily outing because of balls and routs and tea-sippings. Yet the roads north might have been better—which is not saying much,—and there are limits to the endurance of a beast, though not to the miriness of a seaboard road in the spring rains. I did not make the trip to Philadelphia in record time.
Upon my arrival I found that even the beast's master would be the better for a night's rest. Directed to the Plow Tavern, I demanded food and drink for man and horse, and having washed and supped, soon found myself pressing the clean linen of my Quaker host.
Business justifies calls at early hours, and I did not breakfast late. It was as well, perhaps, that I missed my way in the square-laid but narrow Quaker streets, and did not find myself upon the doorstep of Colonel Burr until midmorning. Even as it was, I had a wait of several minutes in the drawing-room before the Colonel entered, wigless, unshaven, and loosely attired in nightgown and slippers.
While waiting, a casual survey of the room had surprised me with its evidences of a lavish establishment. Gossip had reported that the Colonel was not meeting all his extensive indebtednesses when due.
He greeted me with bland cordiality, notwithstanding the inapt hour of my call.
"Welcome, doctor, welcome!" he exclaimed. "Better late than never, eh?"
"You are kind," I replied. "I fancied that I had come too early."
He glanced at his dress with a shrug. "Wine and late hours carry through many a successful conference. You will join me in a cup of coffee and a roll?"
Though I had no wish for food, I assented, for I saw that he had not yet breakfasted. We were soon seated in a snug little den of a room, sipping as good coffee as I had ever tasted at any other than a creole table.
Few men whom I have met have greater command of their features than has Colonel Burr. On the other hand, few are as over-sanguine. He must have inferred that my speedy response to his note meant outright eagerness to share in the projects at which he had hinted. Scarcely pausing for a few civil inquiries as to mutual acquaintances in the Federal City, he interrupted my answers in the midst.
"Let that wait, let it wait, doctor!" he exclaimed, with an ingratiating smile. "There is something of greater moment to us both. I take it from this personal response to my note that you are not uninterested in the plans of Señor Vallois and myself."
The mention of the señor's name drew from me a sharp nod of assent. The plans of Señor Vallois could not but concern his niece, and consequently myself. The Colonel nodded back, and his smile deepened.
"You are aware," he began, "that I have contemplated the purchase of a large tract of land beyond the Mississippi, within the Spanish boundary, on a tributary of the Red River."
"The project was mentioned by you at the President's house," I replied.
"But the ulterior purpose of the scheme—"
"It is reported that you have planned for a colony."
"As a move necessary to the advancement of the real project," he explained.
My look of interest was not assumed. For months past many hundreds of persons, enemies no less than well-wishers of the astute Colonel, had been guessing at the real object behind his rumored schemes.
He nodded shrewdly, and went on, almost in the words of Senator Adair: "Have you considered, doctor, the fortune in store for whoever opens an overland trade with Santa Fe?"
"Granted, sir. No less have I considered the improbability of obtaining such trade concessions from the Spanish authorities. It is only too well known that their policy is set upon jealous exclusion. Their desire for contact with our Western borderers is as slight as their racial and religious aversions are deep-seated and abiding."
"Say rather, their political aversion. Better still, say the political aversion of the authorities alone. I have reason to believe that the people of Mexico would welcome closer relations with us."
"It is not possible!" I protested.
"Have you never thought that the Spanish colonies may be as desirous of achieving independence from foreign oppression as were our own?"
"There is the contemplated expedition of Miranda to Caracas to speak for that," I assented.
"We have the outcry of our insolent friend the Marquis of Casa Yrujo to testify as to the Spanish view of Miranda. The point is, if an expedition to South America, why not one to Mexico?"
"A conquest?" I inquired—"an extension of the vast westward boundaries of Louisiana Territory? It is true that war with Spain now seems inevitable. There is no doubt that the Government would proceed to hostilities, were it not that the French Minister intimates that the Emperor will not permit the war."
He gave me a cunning look. "Ay! With a Napoleon behind him, General Torreau has no difficulty in intimidating our meek philosopher of the White House. Yet the Emperor is powerless. England's fleets guard the high seas. The time is ripe to strike at Spain. We shall precipitate the war, and to us shall fall the prize! Let our object remain unnamed. Enough that Señor Vallois speaks for certain fellow haciendados of wealth and influence living in the northern part of New Spain, that portion of the country above the territory of the viceroyalty and under the government of General Salcedo."
"Whom they term the Governor-General of the Internal Provinces?"
The Colonel nodded. "These friends of Señor Vallois are far from content with present conditions. They would gladly throw off the yoke of Spain if the occasion presented itself. My plan is to present the occasion by means of an army of invasion, to be allied with the revolutionary party. There are thousands of adventurous riflemen west of the Alleghanies not unready to follow an able leader to the land of the Montezumas."
"I have lived on the frontier too long, sir, to doubt that the tide of our westward emigration will roll on until it breaks on the vast desert of the Western plains."
"I care not for the tide, sir! We shall set in motion a wave that will roll across the desert into the golden paradise of El Dorado!"
"And you would tell me a man of Señor Vallois's intelligence invites the entrance of that wave?"
Again the Colonel gave me a knowing smile. "It will be for the Mexicans to care for their own interests when the time comes. Men do not traverse deserts and destroy governments without thought of reward. My fiery friend General Jackson of Tennessee is champing with eagerness to share in the conquest of the Spaniard. Would he be so eager were it explained to him that the object of the invasion went no further than the freeing of the people of that remote land? But there will be glory and recompense for all, and to spare. I have pledged Señor Vallois that he and his friends shall gain a free government, and with it security for their estates. It is his own concern if he and they misconstrue the statement too much in their own favor. On the other hand, Jackson is a man far hungrier for glory than for gold. He will lead our victorious army south into the viceroyalty, to capture the city of Mexico, while we are shaping the new Government for the whole."
The magnitude of the scheme struck me dumb. The Colonel noted the fact with satisfaction. He tapped the table significantly. "That Government, doctor, is already in process of formation. As originator and leader of the project, I claim the supreme office. Certain other of the higher offices are allotted. But you, sir, are a man of scientific attainments and proven courage, and, what is no less important in a royal court, you are a gentleman."
"Royal court?" I muttered, wondering what more might follow.
"The Spanish-American is not qualified to enjoy a republican form of government. Upon this Señor Vallois and myself are clearly agreed. The plan is a constitutional monarchy or empire, with a restricted franchise, the voters to be confined to the ranks of the wealthy and the intellectual."
"In neither of which classes will be found the bulk of your invading army. I foresee a revolution to cap your conquest," was my comment.
"Men can be managed," he replied. "There will not be lacking the spoils of office and the plunder of the enemy to lull their discontent. With all their leaders bound to us by self-interest, it will not be difficult to hold the mass in check. Señor Vallois guarantees a stout auxiliary force of native militia."
"With whom our rough frontiersmen will make short work, in sport, if not in deadly earnest."
"Perhaps,—if brought in contact while not under the fire of the common enemy. Pray do not imagine me so dull, sir. The point has been foreseen, and has been discussed with men of military training. The army of invasion will remain the army of invasion. West of Nuevo Mexico is the remote Pacific province of the Californias; south of the city of Mexico—"
"You think to conquer an empire!" I cried, overwhelmed.
"Why not?" he returned, with an assurance which for the time swept me off my feet in the current of his flashing dreams.
But this giddiness was not alone due to his bare statement. Behind the daring words I had seen what to me was the lure of lures. I had been offered in substance, if not in words, an office of dignity in the court of this future royal personage, among whose lieutenants was numbered the kinsman of Señorita Vallois.
What wonder if for the moment I forgot the worth of republican citizenship in the glittering dream of titled office? What wonder if in the intoxication of the moment I saw the barrier flung down between myself and her, and thought to barter my birthright as an American for a vassal estate which should bring me within reach of her?
"An empire!" I repeated. "The spoils to the victor—and to his followers. At what, sir, do you appraise my worth?"
His answer was ready to glibness: "The title of marquis, an estate to support the dignity, and a seat in my privy council, or such other office as your merits may indicate during the consummation of our projects."
"You have made sure of Señor Vallois?" I demanded.
"He is with us hand and glove. I have planned to cross the Alleghanies about midsummer. Señor Vallois has gone before, to negotiate with certain persons at St. Louis and New Orleans, whom otherwise I might find difficult of approach."
"He has gone west?" I repeated, unable to credit my ears.
"At my request. It was required that he should go by way of New Orleans, in any event, and the coastwise voyage is far from pleasant at this season. Hatteras has an evil name in equinoctial weather. Also there is danger of Spanish pirates off Cuba and in the Gulf. It is hard to find passage in other than an American ship, and a cannon-ball or musket shot fired by a Spanish pirate at a Yankee hull would not turn aside to avoid the Spanish don who chanced to be aboard that selfsame Yankee."
Masking my eagerness with a smile at the conceit he pictured, I remarked in as casual a tone as I could command: "The don, then, is well on his way to St. Louis?"
"Not he!" snapped the Colonel. "It is now only seven—no, eight days since he started. Knowing the condition of the roads, I advised that he should take to the saddle, and leave his charming niece to continue her visit with my daughter Theodosia, who, as doubtless you have heard, is the wife of Senator Allston of South Carolina. I may mention in confidence that my son-in-law is one of the foremost of all those interested in our grand project. When I begin my second Western tour, both he and my beloved Theodosia and my little grandson will accompany me."
"From all that I have heard, sir, Mrs. Allston has only to make an acquaintance to find a friend," I said.
His fond ear was quick to catch the sincerity of my tone, and a look of the most profound and unselfish love ennobled his crafty face. But my own love cried out for an ending of the bitter-sweet suspense.
"So Señor Vallois was so ill advised as to take with him his niece?—or was she not his daughter?" I commented.
"His niece. Did you not meet her at the table of our Jacobin philosopher? To be sure you did! I have not so soon forgotten that gallant exploit with the fence rails!... Thanks to the obstinacy of her uncle, she will be muddying that dainty arched foot in the wayside bog for days to come. There will be few Dr. Robinsons between here and Pittsburg to pry out the carriage of the bemired Dulcinea."
"Ah, well," I observed, "doubtless the señor will arrive in time enough to take advantage of the spring fresh. What he loses on the road he will regain by the added swiftness of the Ohio's current."
"True—true."
"I had myself thought to take advantage of the early floods. My interests impel me to return to Louisiana as speedily as possible."
The Colonel gave me another of his shrewd looks. "You will not take it amiss, doctor," he said, "if I repeat current gossip that the object of your Winter in the Federal City was not attained." I nodded, without show of offence, and he added quickly, "As well, as well, my dear sir! It has brought you better fortune, and your wish atop! You shall have a letter from me to General Wilkinson."
The suddenness of this took me unawares, but he had turned at the words to summon the servant, and did not observe my confusion. Calling for pen, ink, and paper, he turned again to me with outstretched hand.
"Your hand to it, doctor!" he cried. "You are with us?—you cast in your fortune with the future Empire of the West?"
"A word, sir," I protested. "The heritage left me by my father was scant as to property, but I have found it rich in wisdom. It included this old adage, 'Look before you leap.'"
"Good! good, sir! Most excellent advice! Yet have I not shown you the prospect?"
"You have, sir, and not without avail. It is an alluring prospect. I confess myself tempted. Yet—I have seen what the French term the mirage. I should prefer to hold my decision until I have dipped my cup in the lake and found it filled."
"Eh! eh!" he chuckled. "I'll wager there's Scotch blood in your veins—Scotch blood!"
"At the least, I would look closer at the water," I insisted.
"You shall, sir—my word for it!" he responded, with an assurance which shook my last doubt. "You shall have the letter to Wilkinson. When it has brought you your wish, then, and not until then, need you consider your pledge binding."
"Sir," I said, tempted beyond my strength, "I accept the terms."
"Your hand to it!" he cried, and his soft white fingers closed about mine with a strength of grip that astonished me. "To you, sir, shall be entrusted the double mission of opening communication across the Western boundaries with our Mexican allies, and of negotiating with the present Spanish authorities for the Santa Fe trade. I need hardly mention to a man of your intelligence that such projects as we contemplate are not carried to completion without funds. To me falls the task of collecting the sinews of war."
"To me the leadership of the scouts!" I cried. "I am doubly hot to take the road. Dawn shall see me in the saddle!"
"The fire of youth!" he exclaimed, again clasping my hand. "Go, make your preparations. You will ride none the less swiftly that you carry a packet of letters for me."
"Willingly!"
"You think to go south to New Orleans?" I bowed. "Then a letter as well to Daniel Clark."
"I am known to him."
"True; but I have word to send him—no less to Wilkinson—regarding the death of Pitt."
"It is months since that event," I remarked. "The Prime Minister died in January."
"The post to Louisiana is uncertain. Wilkinson at least may not have heard, and I have comments to make. You will deliver the letters for me?"
"I should be pleased to do so, sir. It is a small enough favor to undertake, even for a chance acquaintance."
"But a favor that shall be remembered, doctor. Your lodging?"
"The Plow Inn."
"The packet shall be in your hands by evening," he replied.
I rose at the words, and he showed me to the door, with repeated assurances of confidence and esteem.
The promised packet of letters was delivered to me at the Plow shortly after dark, by the man who had served coffee at the Colonel's. It was accompanied by a note in which Mr. Burr pleaded pressing business as an excuse for not delivering the packet in person. To this he had added a postscript empowering me to break the seal of the packet upon my arrival at St. Louis.
It struck me as most odd that the packet should have been sealed at all. But upon reflection, I concluded that this was a very proper precaution against a chance inspection of the contents by prying busy-bodies who should happen to handle the packet. The letters might well contain statements open to misconstruction by the Colonel's numerous and powerful enemies, or details of plans, publicity of which, owing to the necessity of secrecy, might disconcert the progress of the great project. The instruction to me to open the packet upon my arrival prevented any questioning of the Colonel's confidence in myself.
Thanks to a large hostler-fee, my horse came from the stable after his day of rest as fresh as when we left Washington, and hardened by the trip. He had need for all the endurance within his nature. Before dawn his hoofs were clattering across the great new bridge over the Schuylkill.
In the dense night of the bridge's enclosed roof and sides, it was like riding through a hall of vast length, with no guidance other than the faint starlight at the far end. The thought struck me that this was apt symbol of my love-quest. The darkness was as the night of my lady's fathomless eyes, through which in the uncertain distance I could no more than fancy a dim starlight of hope.
Musing on the conceit, I continued the allegory as we left the bridge and splattered away on the old colonial road to the Monongahela, with the fancy that in spirit, as in body, I had passed from the shut-in blackness out into the openness of space, and that before me was promise of fair dawn.
The day's dawn came as promised, bringing me still greater elevation of spirit. And within the mile a mischievous farmer's brat by the wayside tumbled me from heaven to muddy earth by howling in a voice of lively concern that my horse had lost his tail. So near does the ridiculous skirt the sublime! I had begun my journey on the Day of All Fools.
Perish superstition! Who but the ignorant believes in signs and omens? And if mine was in truth a wild-goose chase, the sooner I reached the end of my running the better. I neither would nor could have checked myself had the thought come to me to turn back.
A journey tedious enough in the best of seasons is not improved by April rains and boggy roads. On the other hand, I had that drawing me Westward which would have spurred the tortoise into striving for the hare's leap. It is sufficient evidence of my haste to state that, for all the condition of the roads, I made in fifteen days the trip which is considered well covered if ridden in nineteen.
Let me hasten to add that this was not done on one nag. Even had not my love of man's second friend served to prevent so brutal an attempt, failure would have been inevitable. With the best of roads, not a horse in the Republic could have carried through a man of my weight in the time. The attempt was not necessary. Thanks to a kindly acquaintance here and there along my route and to a sufficiency of silver in my saddlebags, I managed to obtain a fresh mount on an average of twice in every three days. With such relays, I was able to ride post-haste, yet leave behind me each horse, in turn, none the worse for his part in the race.
Up hill and down dale, pound, splatter, and chug, I pushed my mounts to their best pace, along the old Philadelphia road. In other circumstances and under clearer skies I might have paused now and again to enjoy the pleasant aspect of the Alleghany scenery,—its winding rivers and brooks, its romantic heights and budding woods. But from the first my thoughts were ever flying ahead to the Monongahela, and the sole interest I turned to my surroundings was centred upon such urgent matters as food, lodging, and fresh mounts.
At the end of the journey I found myself in clear memory of but three incidents,—a tavern brawl with a dozen or more carousing young farmers, who chose to consider themselves insulted by my refusal to take more than one glass of their raw whiskey; the swimming of the Susquehanna River, because of a disablement of the ferry; and a brush with a trio of highwaymen at nightfall in the thick of a dense wood. The rascals did not catch me with damp priming. When they sprang out at me, I knocked over the foremost, as he reached for the bridle, with a thrust of my rifle muzzle, and swung the barrel around in time to shatter the shoulder of the second fellow with a shot fired from the hip. The third would have done for me had not his priming flashed in the pan. He turned and leaped back into the thicket, while I was quite content to clap spurs to my horse and gallop on up the road.
But even this last adventure failed to hold a place in my thoughts when at last, near mid-afternoon of the fifteenth day, I came in view of Elizabethtown on the Monongahela. Here it was I had reason to hope that I might overtake Señor Vallois and his party. With roads so difficult, it was more to be expected that he would take boat from this lively little shipping point than rag on through the mire to Pittsburg.
Cheered by the thought, I urged my horse into a jog trot, which, however, soon fell back into a walk as the weary beast floundered through the deeper mire of the town's main street. I rode as directly as possible toward the leading tavern. Señor Vallois was not the man to lie at any other than the best of inns when choice offered.
With quick-beating heart I made out the sign of the tavern I sought, and again attempted to urge my horse into a jog. He was slow to respond either to word or spur, and I suddenly gave over the effort at sight of a tall and dignified figure which stepped from the inn door and swung easily upon the horse which a half-grown lad had been holding in wait.
The first glance had told me what I most wished to know. My chase had not been fruitless. The Spanish cloak and hat and high riding boots of the don were unmistakable, even had I not recognized the Spanish dignity of his bearing. Certain of his identity, I would have preferred to postpone a meeting until I had found opportunity to bathe and to change to the one shift of linen and clothes which I carried behind the cantle of my saddle. Yet I made no attempt to avoid him when he wheeled his horse about and rode directly toward me.
Had it not been for our first meeting in the yellow clay of Washington's famous avenue, I doubt if the don were unmistakable, even had I not recognized buckskins. With that memory in mind, it is not unlikely that my mud-smirched condition only served to add to the quickness of his perception. We were almost passing, when he raised his eyes, which had been staring down into the miry road in frowning abstraction. His glance swept over me and rested on my face. A moment later he had drawn rein and was bowing to me.
"Por Dios!It is our gallantcaballeroof the mire!—Buenos dias, Dr. Robinson!"
"To you the same, Señor Vallois!" I returned.
"It is a strange chance which brings us to a meeting in this wilderness bog," he remarked, with what I thought was a shade of suspicion in his proud black eyes.
There was every reason for me to seek at once to place myself on the footing with him that I desired. Meeting his glance with a careless nod, I answered readily: "It is a pleasant chance which brings us together here, but not a strange one. Little travel comes from Philadelphia to the Ohio other than on the road we both have such cause to remember."
"From Philadelphia?" he questioned.
"I carry despatches from Colonel Burr."
"You!" he cried, thrown out of his aristocratic reserve. But in the same breath he was bowing his apologies. "Your pardon, señor! I was not aware that you and Colonel Burr—"
"Nor he, señor, until a few days ago," I hastened to explain. "Senator Adair of Kentucky was formerly my father's friend and camp-mate. He advised me to see Colonel Burr. When I started upon my return West, I came by way of Philadelphia. It did not take me long to come to an agreement with—" I lowered my voice and leaned nearer the don—"the man who professes an intention to strike off the fetters of a land dear to Señor Vallois."
"Poder de Dios!" cried the don, reaching his hand to me with a fiery impetuosity of which I had believed him incapable—"Santisima Virgen!You are one of us! You have cast in your lot with the new league of freedom!"
It angered me that I must qualify. "Hold, señor! I did not say that. I have not gone so far—as yet."
"As yet?" he demanded.
"Your pardon, señor, but many such projects are schemed, and in the end prove to be—'castles in Spain.'"
He smiled gravely and without offence. "Señor, I give you my word that I and my friends are prepared to build the Western wall of the castle."
"Your word, señor, is sufficient. But there remains the Eastern wall, and I am doubtful of the builders. I did not ask for Colonel Burr's word. I preferred something more substantial. He has promised that I shall receive such proof upon my arrival at St. Louis."
"Then you, too, go to the—to St. Louis?"
"To the General," I responded, surmising that it was General Wilkinson whom he had hesitated to name.
"You spoke of despatches."
"Letters from the Colonel to parties we both seek, in St. Louis and New Orleans."
"Colonel Burr entrusted me with numerous despatches."
"He mentioned the day of my visit with him in Philadelphia as the eighth after your departure. That week may have seen developments or changes which required fresh despatches."
"Poder de Dios!" he exclaimed. "You left Philadelphia eight days later—and are here!"
"At your service, señor."
"Santisima Virgen!And I had four horses to my carriage!"
"I had nine horses beneath my saddle, in succession."
"Virgen!What acaballero!"
"When a man is in haste to see his journey's end, señor, he does not loll about taverns on the way. You came in yesterday?" He bowed. "Then you may be able to tell me what are the chances of obtaining quick passage down the river."
He looked across toward the shipyards with a frown.
"I am now on my way to inquire, señor," he answered. "Against the better counsel of Colonel Burr, I was so ill advised as to bring a seaman from the seaboard to have charge of the water journey."
"A salt-water sailor on an Ohio flat!" I exclaimed.
"The señor forgets that I am a stranger to his forest wilderness."
"Your pardon, Señor Vallois!—Permit me to ride with you. It may be I can assist you."
"Na-da-a!" he protested. "I cannot permit it. You have ridden for fifteen days at more than post speed. You must first refresh yourself."
"The señor forgets that I am no less eager than himself to arrange for the river passage. Rest assured I am good for another day in the saddle, if need be, at your service, señor."
As I wheeled around, and we started for the riverside, he looked me up and down with a wondering glance.
"Por Dios!" he muttered. "I had thought none could ride as ride ourvaqueros. You are a man of iron."
"I am the son of my father," I replied. "How other than hard could be the sons of the men who wrested this Western land from the savages,—who have driven the Cherokees, Creeks, and Choctaws south of Tennessee, and pressed back the Northwest Indians to their present fastnesses about the Great Lakes?"
"It is true," he said. "I have been told no little of that most cruel and ferocious warfare waged by your savage enemies. I myself know the fearsomeness of the raids of our equally ferocious Apaches and Yaquis. Therefore I do not wonder that the men and the sons of the men who met their painted enemies in this gloomy wilderness should have become not only hard, but rude and harsh in their manners."
"Given that and the prevailing craze for raw whiskey, and we have—what we have. Yet they are the men whose fathers met the Indian on his own ground; who themselves have met the ravaging war parties, and who will doubtless again meet them,—though I trust not again on the banks of the Ohio."
"May the Virgin grant that your trust is well founded!" returned the señor, with deep earnestness. "Yet the British soldiers still hold your lake forts, and it is rumored that the British agents are ever at work conspiring with the Northern tribes against the interests of your people. Let me predict that unless Britain is humbled by the great Emperor, she will make excuse of your many differences to crush your Republic and regain these lost colonies."
"Let her try!" I cried. "Let her turn loose her savage allies upon us, and we will hurl them back into the lakes! We will cross over and drive redcoats and redskins alike down the St. Lawrence into the sea! Even the abject people of the seaboard, who now lick the foot that spurns them, will remember their fathers of the Revolution, and strike the enemy as Paul Jones and his fellows struck them,—on the sea."
The señor met my enthused glance with unmoved gravity. "I have heard mention of what is called President Jefferson's mosquito fleet."
Our arrival at the shipyards gave me welcome excuse to change the subject. I pointed to the scores of river craft, afloat in the stream or in course of construction. "Had you in mind, señor, to take a bateau or a flat?"
"Bateau?—flat?" he repeated. "Your pardon, doctor, but the terms—?"
"A bateau is a boat of flat bottom but with keel. A flat is a great scow without keel, and often provided with deal cabins."
"I had been told how to proceed, but left all to that rascal of a seaman. Immediately upon our arrival, he told me, with many foul oaths, that he intended to make no ventures on fresh water, and to show his contempt for the saltless fluid, has sat ever since in the taproom of the inn, guzzling whiskey."
"You are better off without the fellow," I said. "There are scores of men to be hired here who are well used to river travel. Is it your intention to hire passage, or to purchase your own boat?"
"Privacy is desirable. I have disposed of my coach and horses with less loss than I had feared. If boats are not too high in price—"
"Rest easy as to that, señor. Boats are one of the cheapest products of the shipping towns. The question first to decide is whether you prefer a keelboat or a flat."
"Señor, I must rely upon your good advice," he replied.
I pointed at the swollen, turbid current of the Monongahela, swirling high along its banks. "As you see, the river is in full flood. It is what the rivermen term the Spring fresh. The Ohio now runs no less swiftly, at times fully eight miles an hour. I should advise you to choose a flat, because it will travel little less speedily than a bateau, and with its house, will prove a far more comfortable craft for so long a voyage."
"Comfort is an important consideration, doctor. With me travels my niece, whom you may remember."
I kept such command of my features as I could. "I have a clear memory of Señorita Vallois. It is unfortunate."
"Unfortunate!" he exclaimed, with a lift of his black brows.
"That you have no servant skilled in handling a river boat."
"Ah—that!"
"A single man could manage your flat, provided you were willing to lend a hand on occasion at steer-oar or pole—a few minutes, it might be, once or twice a day. There are, as I have said, numbers of skilled rivermen to be hired. But—" I paused as if to consider—"No. I could bring you more than one for whose faithfulness I could vouch, but none who is not foul-mouthed and—to a foreigner—insolent."
Shifting my gaze to the nearest flat, I waited in eager suspense. He answered with a question: "Do I understand you to say that with my help one man could guide so clumsy a craft?" I nodded, with assumed carelessness. "And you are yourself skilled as a riverman, señor?" Again I nodded. I could not trust myself to speak. He continued with polite hesitancy: "Would you, then, think it odd, Dr. Robinson, if I requested you to make the river journey with me?"
"Señor!" I cried, "it would give me great pleasure!"
"Carambo!" he muttered, at sight of my glowing face.
A moment's hesitancy would have lost me all the vantage I had gained. I held my left hand level before me, and swept off the upturned palm with my right. There are few of the Indian signs which do not pass current from the lakes of the North and the swamps of the South to the most remote of the tribes in the Far West. I was right in my surmise that they were known even across the Spanish borders.
The señor bowed in quick apology: "A thousand pardons, Señor Robinson!"
"A man does not ride post-haste without expense," I said, with a seriousness which was not all feigned.
"A thousand pardons!" he repeated. "My purse is at your disposal, Señor Robinson. I do not speak in empty compliment. Such funds as you may require—"
"Muchas gracias!" I broke in. "I have enough silver left to jingle in my pocket. My thought was that it would be more agreeable to work my passage with an acquaintance than with strangers. At this season it is unusual for persons of culture to undertake the river trip. The voyage is becoming quite the fashion among young gentlemen of means and enterprise, but they seldom venture over the mountains before settled weather, and the rivermen, as I have remarked, are not always the best of company."
"Señor, no more! We share this voyage as fellow-travellers—my boat and your skill. Is it not so?"
"Señor, my thanks!" I replied. "Yet first, there is the question of Señorita Vallois's pleasure. It is a long voyage. I would not thrust myself upon your intimacy against the lady's inclinations."
"My niece will be no less pleased than myself to travel in company with a gentleman of your acquaintance. I will answer for that. My niece has lived for three years in England. While we travel in Anglo-America, we are agreed to comply with such customs of the country as do not differ too widely from our own."
I bowed low to hide my extreme satisfaction. It was the rarest of good fortune to have penetrated the reserve with which a Spanish gentleman surrounds the ladies of his family. But it was not my part to dwell upon the fact. I hastened to point out a flatboat which had caught my eye when we first rode down to the bank.
"What is your opinion of that craft?" I asked.
"So large a boat—for two men?Santa Maria!"
"Hardly forty feet over all," I replied. "Let us go aboard."
He swung to the ground as quickly as myself, and we hitched our horses to the nearest stump. As the flat was moored alongside the rough wharf, we had only to step aboard. The height of the water brought the craft almost on a level with the wharf.
A glance or two showed me that the boat was already fitted out with steer-oar, sweeps and poles, a kedge with ample line, and a light skiff, snugly stowed in the ten-foot space of open prow. Having next made sure that she was well calked and dry, I led the señor through the house. It was divided into three apartments or rooms, of which the one nearest the stern was some five feet the longest.
"Here," I said, pointing to the rude but well-built fireplace, "is the kitchen, salon, and dining-room of our floating inn."
We passed on through the middle and forward rooms. Like the kitchen, both were limited to a width of seven feet by the need of a runway without, along each side of the boat. But Señor Vallois looked about approvingly.
"We could share this cabin," he said, glancing about the forward room.
"My thanks, señor, but I can make shift to sleep on deck," I replied.
"There will be rain—there is always rain in this northern country of yours. No. You will do me the favor of sharing this cabin with me. There are two berths, as you see."
I looked gravely at the rude bunks built, one above the other, on the left wall, and bowed my acceptance of the offer.
"It is well," he continued. "My niece and her woman will share the middle room. There remains only the question of purchase."
"Leave the bargaining to me," I said quickly, at sight of the shrewd-faced Yankee who came down the wharf as we stepped out into the open prow.
"The affair is entirely in your hands, doctor," assented the señor.
The Yankee stepped aboard with an air of brisk business.
"I cal'clate ye want a boat," he began. "Let ye have this 'un dirt cheap."
"How much?" I demanded.
"One seventy-five."
"Lumber cordelled by keelboat from New Orleans?" I rallied him in smiling irony.
He looked me up and down with a speculative eye.
"We-ell, stranger, I might knock off ten dollars."
"You mean fifty."
Again he surveyed me; then appraised the rich broadcloth of my companion.
"Be ye buyin' fer him?" he queried.
"We make the trip together. I can go as high as a hundred and twenty-five. We could do better at Pittsburg, but are willing to give you the bargain, to save our boots."
He looked again from my mud-smeared buckskins to the señor's fine apparel, and smiled sourly. "Ye'll git no such boat at the price, here or at Pittsburg, if ye wait till the next freeze. One fifty is my best offer. Take it or leave it."
"Skiff, kedge, sweeps, poles, and steer-oar included," I stipulated.
He assented, with well-feigned reluctance: "As she stands—lock, stock, and barrel."
I handed him a five-bit piece. "Taken! Yet I'd have had you down fifteen more if we were not in haste."
"I'd ha' eased your high-nosed don of a round two hundred, my lad, had he done his own dickering," muttered he, as, at a word from me, the señor drew out a bulging purse and counted into my palm the hundred and fifty dollars in American gold.
While our sour-faced boat-dealer made out his bill of sale, I wrote down a list of provisions and furnishings for the boat. Upon reading this to the señor, he suggested the addition of some articles which I would have regarded as needless luxuries. Leaving these to his own selection, I jogged to the store of a gruff old German ship-chandler, one of the Hessians against whom my father had fought at Monmouth and Trenton, and whose wife, on my last trip, I had been so fortunate as to cure of a quinsy.
The good Frau came in as I was giving my list into the charge of her husband, and would not take a refusal to her offer of hospitality. Horse, list, and all were taken from me before I could defend myself, and I am not sure but what the Frau would herself have put me into the tub she made ready in the bedroom had I not begged for a dish of her sauerkraut and corned beef.
Cleansed and filled, I was given no peace until she had me safe between clean, dry sheets in their canopied fourposter. Having then been given sufficient respite to write a note of explanation to the señor, I rolled over and sank into that profound slumber of which I had so great need.
I awoke to find the sun up a good two hours and the hospitable couple beaming upon me as brightly as the sunrays which shone in through the diamond panes of the latticed window. The Frau held up my buckskins, all cleansed and dried and softened; the man showed my list, with every item checked and double checked, and a receipt from the party to whom I had agreed to deliver my last mount.
Between them I soon learned that the flatboat was well stocked for the voyage, and that the señor had sent word he was about to go aboard with his party. This last would have forced me to rise and accept the good wife's intended assistance with my dressing, had she not feared that I should rush off before she could serve my breakfast. I gulped my coffee while she tied on my moccasins. There was no question of other garments than my buckskins, since saddle and all had been stored aboard the flat. When I at last made my escape, it was with a hot sausage in either hand. These German delicacies followed the rye bread and coffee which had gone before, while I was riding to the wharf in my host's rattling ox-cart.
Greatly to my relief, despite the plodding pace of our beasts, we were first to reach the boat. I had time to overhaul the craft and say farewell to my good German friend. As he drove off, gruff-voiced but beaming, the well-remembered cherry-wood carriage came churning through the mire. The señor had retained the right to use it for this last service.
I was at the door, with my hand on the knob, as the driver swung around. The señor stepped out, with a sonorous, "Buenos dias, doctor!" For a fraction of a moment he seemed about to turn. Then he stepped aside, and left my way clear.
My lady drew out an arm from the depths of her great ermine muff. Her plump, bare little hand lay in my brown fingers like a snowy jasmine bloom. There was mockery in the depths of her eyes, but the scarlet lips arched in a not unkindly smile.
"Buenos dias, señor!" she greeted me.
"It is truly a good day which brings me sight again of Señorita Vallois," I replied. "May this clear sky prove true augury of the voyage we are to share!"
"May it prove true augury of clear sunshine to follow! These weeping skies of England and your Republic! I long for a week of dry weather." She shivered in her single-sleeved French cloak, whose white floss net and tassels added little to the warmth of her gauzy muslins. As for her head, even her light mantilla would have been more suitable to the weather than the jaunty cap of velvet and tigerskin.
"You are cold!" I said. "There is a fire aboard our craft."
I drew her hand beneath my arm and started to lead her down the wharf as a swarthy, hard-featured woman stepped from the carriage. The señorita spoke a few words in Spanish, and the woman turned to help the driver lift down the chests and boxes from behind, under the direction of Señor Vallois.
Handing the señorita down into the boat's stern, I led her into the living-room, or kitchen, and laid more fagots upon the fire which I had kindled. In another moment I had her seated before the blaze, with a blanket about her graceful shoulders. As I knelt to place a stool for her little feet, she gazed down with the velvety eyes which had looked out upon me from the coach window in Washington.
"Maria purisima!" she murmured. "There are tales of gallant knights—"
"Who served and adored their ladies!" I added.
She glanced about at her uncle, who was entering through the middle room.
"Madre de los Dolores!" she called. "These physicians! Pray, reassure him, my uncle. He is convinced I shall suffer a chill."
"Not after the precautions I have taken," I rejoined with professional gravity as I rose. "The wonder is that Señorita Vallois has so long survived the sudden changes of our seaboard climate. I know little of temperatures abroad, but on this side of the Atlantic these thin Empire gowns are sheer murder."
"Granted," replied the señor. "Yet as a physician you have doubtless long since learned the futility of arguing the cut or material of a gown with a woman."
"Only too well, señor! Fortunately every day will now carry us both nearer a milder climate and nearer the Summer. Your chests are all aboard?"
"All. And yours, señor?"
"Mine will be waiting on the wharf at Pittsburg. We will put in for it as we drift past."
"It is well," he replied. I moved toward the outer door. "A moment, if you please, doctor. We voyage together many leagues. Among my friends I am addressed as Don Pedro."
"And I as Alisanda," added the señorita gayly. Her uncle raised his brows, but said nothing. She called toward the inner door, "Chita!—Chita!"
The woman appeared, and at a sign from her mistress, crossed toward me.
"Dr. Robinson, you have not before met my faithful Chita, because she was ill and had to be left in Philadelphia when we went to Washington. Chita, this is he of whom I spoke."
The woman courtesied with a grace which belied her stout figure, her beady eyes riveted upon my face. When she straightened I ventured to surmise from the half smile which hovered about her hard mouth that if she was not already well-disposed toward me, she was at least not an enemy.
"It is well," said Don Pedro.
"All well—and ready to cast off," I added. "If the señorita—"
"Alisanda!" she corrected, with a flashing glance.
"If—Alisanda is quite warm, she may wish to witness the event."
"I will join you immediately," she responded.
With that I led Don Pedro out to the steer-oar and showed him how to hold it to aid in bringing us about. As our craft lay in a slow eddy, I had no difficulty in casting off. The townfolk and shipyard workers were far too busy with the rush of the Spring shipping to give heed to so common an event as the departure of a flat. But it was enough to call out all my skill and strength that I thrust off under the eyes of Alisanda.
A side shove from the prow, and a rear thrust from the inner corner of the stern as the prow swung out, cleared us from the wharf and sent us gliding out aslant the eddy. The river was in such full flood that the bottom, even alongside the wharf, was beyond poling depth. But I called Don Pedro to aid me with the sweeps, and a few long strokes carried us out into the swirling current of midstream.
Our voyage had begun. We were afloat in the grasp of the river, and for the time need only to fold our arms and gaze at the changing vistas of forest-clad hills on either bank, past which the current swept us along at more than post speed.
Before the noon meal we had passed in turn the important shipping town of McKeesport, at the mouth of the Youghiogheny, and the hillside ravine near Turtle Creek, where, within a gunshot of the river bank, the British General Braddock met with his disastrous defeat at the hands of the French and Indians, and where he whose life was to prove so precious to his countrymen came so near to losing it beneath the edge of the tomahawk.
In the midst of our meal we came so close under the heights of Pittsburg that I had need to leave the table to take advantage of a slant in the current which would bring us shoreward. Before the others joined me, I had the boat fast alongside the warehouse wharf where I hoped to find the chest of clothes I had sent on from Washington. My expectations were not of the firmest, for I knew the Cumberland Pike to be quite as miry as the Philadelphia road. It had been, indeed, a close shave, for on inquiring of the warehouse keeper, I learned that my box had come down from Redstone by skiff only the previous evening.