“Colonel George Rogers Clark, Esquire: Sir, I’ve be’n a-grumblin’ a long time about these hyar secret orders, and, I reckon, be’n makin’ a darned jackmule of myself about it. Colonel, I take it all back, and damme, sir, I’ll lift the ha’r off any feller as says you ain’t a full team and two mules to spar’, with a yaller dawg hitched under the tail-board. I’m with you, colonel, while thar’s a drop of blood in my body, and these hyar Harrodsburg hu’sters, they travel with me, you kin bet all the clothes you ever owned. Thar!”
A rousing cheer from Harrod’s company applauded the speech, and it was followed by equally warm indorsement from every captain and company, with one exception.
This was captain Dillard, whose company was raised near Harrod’s, and entertained considerable jealousy of the others.
Captain Dillard, when questioned point-blank by Clark, before the rest, replied:
“Waal, colonel, ef I’d knowed you war a-goin’ on any sich a wild-goose chase as this hyar, I wouldn’t have pledged my credit to the boys, and asked ’em to come. You’re a-goin’ a long way, and it’s more than likely you’ll git beat. Ef so, whar are ye? Worse off than ever, a thousand miles from hum, and no one to help ye?”
The cautious captain’s words were not without their effect in damping the men’s spirits, and it was with great adroitness that Clark replied, in closing the discussion:
“That’s all provided for, captain. We have bateaux enough to carry us all down the Mississippi to New Orleans, where the Spanish and French will be only too glad to pay us like princes to fight the Indians for them. But we shall not get beat. We shall take them by surprise, kill the British soldiers, save Kentucky, and come home worth two hundred and fifty acres of land apiece. Governor Henry has promised it to us, and I have the patent in my pocket. Now, gentlemen, since you’re all agreed to follow me, disperse to your quarters. Captain Bowman, you are officer of the day. Secure all the boats, and place sentries at the ford. Let no man cross without my orders. I wish to see the captains in my cabin at once. Adjutant, dismiss the parade.”
As stiffly and formally as if nothing had happened, he signified by his manner that discussion was over. The officers returned to their companies; the little adjutant called up the sergeants and received reports; and finally parade was dismissed, with a ceremony rarely seen among the rough frontiersmen.
Guards were set around the boat and at the fort, and the whole camp was soon a buzz of conflicting voices on the prospects of the famous expedition to Kaskaskia. Some of Dillard’s men were disposed to gloomy prophecies, influenced by their captain, but the greater part were light-hearted, reckless hunters, to whom the idea of a distant and dangerous expedition acted as a charm.
These laughed at the croakers, and prognosticated great things of the expedition, as they devoured their rations, which the foresight of Clark had collected at the falls in large quantities. None knew better than Clark the road through the stomach to a soldier’s heart, and none appreciated it better.