Part 9 (1/2)

She trembled from head to foot, and her voice failed her; but she made a negative sign and smiled at him, turning as white as her tanned face could become.

In his left hand he held his bow, while in his right he half lifted a murderous looking tomahawk.

”What new flag mean?” he demanded, waving the bow's end toward the fort and bending his head down close to hers. ”Who yonder?”

”The great American Father has taken us under his protection,” she explained. ”We are big-knives now.” It almost choked her to speak.

”Ugh! heap d.a.m.n fools,” he said with a dark scowl. ”Little friend much d.a.m.n fool.”

He straightened up his tall form and stood leering at her for some seconds, then added:

”Little friend get killed, scalped, maybe.”

The indescribable n.o.bility of animal largeness, symmetry and strength showed in his form and att.i.tude, but the expression of his countenance was absolutely repulsive--cold, hard, beastly.

He did not speak again, but turned quickly, and stooping low, disappeared like a great brownish red serpent in the high gra.s.s, which scarcely stirred as he moved through it.

Somehow that day made itself strangely memorable to Alice. She had been accustomed to stirring scenes and sudden changes of conditions; but this was the first time that she had ever joined actively in a public movement of importance. Then, too, Long-Hair's picturesque and rudely dramatic reappearance affected her imagination with an indescribable force. Moreover, the pathetic situation in the love affair between Rene and Adrienne had taken hold of her conscience with a disturbing grip.

But the shadowy sense of impending events, of which she could form no idea, was behind it all. She had not heard of Brandywine, or Bunker Hill, or Lexington, or Concord; but something like a waft of their significance had blown through her mind. A great change was coming into her idyllic life. She was indistinctly aware of it, as we sometimes are of an approaching storm, while yet the sky is sweetly blue and serene.

When she reached home the house was full of people to whom M.

Roussillon, in the gayest of moods, was dispensing wine and brandy.

”Vive Zhorzh Vasinton!” shouted Oncle Jazon as soon as he saw her.

And then they all talked at once, saying flattering things about her.

Madame Roussillon tried to scold as usual; but the lively chattering of the guests drowned her voice.

”I suppose the American commander will send a garrison here,” some one said to Father Gibault, ”and repair the fort.”

”Probably,” the priest replied, ”in a very few weeks. Meantime we will garrison it ourselves.”

”And we will have M. Roussillon for commander,” spoke up Rene de Ronville, who was standing by.

”A good suggestion,” a.s.sented Father Gibault; ”let us organize at once.”

Immediately the word was pa.s.sed that there would be a meeting at the fort that evening for the purpose of choosing a garrison and a commander. Everybody went promptly at the hour set. M. Roussillon was elected Captain by acclamation, with Rene de Ronville as his Lieutenant. It was observed that Oncle Jazon had resumed his dignity, and that he looked into his cap several times without speaking.

Meantime certain citizens, who had been in close relations with Governor Abbott during his stay, quietly slipped out of town, manned a batteau and went up the river, probably to Ouiatenon first and then to Detroit. Doubtless they suspected that things might soon grow too warm for their comfort.

It was thus that Vincennes and Fort Sackville first acknowledged the American Government and hoisted the flag which, as long as it floated over the blockhouse, was lightly and lovingly called by everyone la banniere d'Alice Roussillon.

Father Gibault returned to Fort Kaskaskia and a little later Captain Leonard Helm, a jovial man, but past the prime of life, arrived at Vincennes with a commission from Col. Clark authorizing him to supersede M. Roussillon as commander, and to act as Indian agent for the American Government in the Department of the Wabash. He was welcomed by the villagers, and at once made himself very pleasing to them by adapting himself to their ways and entering heartily into their social activities.

M. Roussillon was absent when Captain Helm and his party came. Rene de Ronville, nominally in command of the fort, but actually enjoying some excellent grouse shooting with a bell-mouthed old fowling piece on a distant prairie, could not be present to deliver up the post; and as there was no garrison just then visible, Helm took possession, without any formalities.

”I think, Lieutenant, that you'd better look around through the village and see if you can scare up this Captain what's-his-name,” said the new commander to a stalwart young officer who had come with him. ”I can't think of these French names without getting my brain in a twist. Do you happen to recollect the Captain's name, Lieutenant?”