"I have no party, that is true," said he at last—"none but you and Sam Ward!" He smiled with one of his rare, illuminating smiles, different from the cold mirth which often marked him.
"At least, Mr. Calhoun, you do not take on your work for the personal glory of it," said I hotly; "and one day the world will know it!"
"'Twill matter very little to me then," said he bitterly. "But come, now, I want more news about your trip to Montreal. What have you done?"
So now, till far towards dawn of the next day, we sat and talked. I put before him full details of my doings across the border. He sat silent, his eye betimes wandering, as though absorbed, again fixed on me, keen and glittering.
"So! So!" he mused at length, when I had finished, "England has started a land party for Oregon! Can they get across next fall, think you?"
"Hardly possible, sir," said I. "They could not go so swiftly as the special fur packets. Winter would catch them this side of the Rockies. It will be a year before they can reach Oregon."
"Time for a new president and a new policy," mused he.
"The grass is just beginning to sprout on the plains, Mr. Calhoun," I began eagerly.
"Yes," he nodded. "God! if I were only young!"
"I am young, Mr. Calhoun," said I. "Send me!"