The sunbeams glistened on the naked skin of an Indian runner, as, hair flying in the wind, from miles away he came panting to Clark at Kaskaskia.
"There is to be an attack on San Loui'. Wabasha, the Sioux, and Matchekewis—"
"How do you know?"
"I hear at Michilimackinac,—Winnebagoe, Sauk, Fox, Menomonie."
Clark laughed and gave the messenger a drink of taffia. But the moment the painted savage slid away the Colonel prepared to inform his friends at St. Louis.
"Pouf!" laughed the careless commandant, drinking his wine at the Government House. "Why need we fear? Are not our relation wit de Indian friendly? Never haf been attack on San Luis, never will be. Be seat, haf wine, tak' wine, Señor le Colonel."
"Pouf!" echoed the guests at the Governor's table. "Some trader angry because he lose de peltry stole in de Spanish country. It never go beyond threat."
An attack? The very idea seemed to amuse the Governor in his cups. But Father Gibault looked grave. "I, too, have heard such a rumour."
"It may be only a belated report of Hamilton's scheming," replied Clark. "Now he is boxed up it may blow over. But in case the English attempt to seize the west bank of this river I pledge you all the assistance in my power."
"T'anks, t'anks, my good friend, I'll not forget. In de middle of de night you get my summon."