“Eight hundred!” Jim gasped. There weren’t eight hundred people in the two towns of Kaskaskia and Cahokia.
Colonel Clark resumed his pacing back and forth as though he had forgotten Jim. After a time he stopped suddenly. “Attack at once, Jim. That’s what we’ll do.” He brought his fist down hard in the palm of his hand. “It’s our only chance. We’ll attack Hamilton now when he thinks it’s impossible. But we’ll make it.”
Jim’s blue eyes sparkled reflecting Clark’s confidence. “Yes, sir. What can I do to help you now?”
“Run to Father Gibault’s and ask him if he will come to my headquarters at once. Then see if you can find Captain Charleville and tell him to report to me immediately. But do not tell them or anyone else what I have just told you. Do not even mention Vigo’s visit.”
“No, sir, I won’t.”
Colonel Clark then called one of his officers who had been asleep upstairs. “You,” he nodded toward the man as soon as he appeared, “ride to Cahokia tonight. Tell Captain McCarty to bring his company back from Cahokia immediately.”
“Yes, sir,” replied the officer.
Jim dashed out of the house toward Father Gibault’s, while Clark’s officer mounted his horse and set off at a gallop for Cahokia.
Father Gibault and Captain Charleville returned to headquarters with Jim almost immediately. George Rogers Clark told them the bad news of Vincennes and what he had in mind to do.
Father Gibault looked grave for a few minutes and then said, “Colonel Clark, I’m not a military man, but I think your plan of attack is good. God willing, you will make it.”