“Oh, I’m sure of that,” Jim agreed.
Father Gibault was delighted with the amount of honey and wax that the boys brought back, and gave half the honey to Jim for Colonel Clark and his men. When Willie told him Jim would like to work alongside of him, Father Gibault said he would put in a good word for him to Monsieur Cerré.
A few days later Jim went with Willie to the fur depot to see Monsieur Cerré. The merchant put him to work with Willie, sorting and counting the pelts which Indians and French voyageurs had brought into Kaskaskia during the fall and winter.
Jim and Willie became the best of friends, spending many long evenings together either at Willie’s house or at Colonel Clark’s headquarters. Jim taught him to play his drum; Willie was such an apt pupil and so filled with rhythm that he soon played as well as Jim. In return Willie taught Jim all the gay lilting French songs he knew.
Jim enjoyed living in Kaskaskia; if his parents had been with him, he would have willingly spent the rest of his life among the French. They were a gay light-hearted people, always ready to stop work and have fun.
The men played cards endlessly on the outdoor galleries until winter winds drove them indoors. There were many church festivals to attend, dances for the boys to watch and always excellent food. At Christmas time there were many gay parties given for the French citizens and Clark’s soldiers.
On New Year’s Day of 1779 came the best day of all. The whole village turned out in its finest clothes to call at the homes of well-to-do folk.
And what a colorful procession they made; the men wore silken hose and bright silver shoe buckles, their richly trimmed coats open to show their fancy, embroidered waistcoats; the women dressed in feathered finery imported from France by way of New Orleans and the Mississippi River. Ordinary French settlers wore buckskin trousers and long colored cotton shirts belted in by colored bead sashes tied behind, and topped by the familiar blue capots. Now and then there appeared in the crowd a soldier in an ancient French uniform, or a voyageur in his leather ruffled shirt and brightly colored cap with bobbing tassel.
Jim found life good in Kaskaskia until one afternoon in late January. On the twenty-ninth day of the month Jim came home from work and met a well-dressed gentleman just leaving Colonel Clark’s headquarters. Jim wondered who this man was.
As Jim walked into the house, George Rogers Clark was pacing the floor and running his hand nervously through his shock of red hair. He didn’t even see Jim come in, but continued to pace back and forth. Jim took off his coat and hung it in the closet. Then he came back into the large living room.