“Upon my word, madam,” he would exclaim, surveying it with admiring eyes, “we shall have a very respectable garment!” I do not know how many times he repeated this during the three days that the work was in progress.
I believe he had not perfect confidence in the culinary powers of his comrade of “Company D,” for regularly a half-hour before beat of drum, his work was folded and laid aside, his snips gathered up, and all things being restored to order, he would slip out, resume his shoes, which, Turk-like, he had left outside the door, and speed over to the barrack-kitchen to see how matters were going on.
In the meantime, great preparations were making below, under the supervision of our tidy, active, little French servant, Mrs. Pillon, the wife of one of the engagés, by whom the irregular and unmanageable Louisa had been replaced.
Biscuits were baked, a ham, some tongues, and sundry pieces of salt-pork were boiled, coffee roasted and ground, sugar cracked, isinglass cut in pieces of the size requisite for a pot of coffee. For the reception of all these different articles cotton bags of different sizes had been previously prepared. Large sacks of skin, called by the Canadians porches, were also provided to hold the more bulky provisions, for our journey was to be a long one.
The distance from Fort Winnebago to Chicago was not very formidable, it is true, if the direct route were taken, but that we knew to be impossible at this season of the year. The route by Kosh-ko-nong was out of the question; all the Indians being absent from their villages in the winter, and the ice being now gone, we could have no means of crossing the Rock River at that place.
There remained therefore no alternative but to proceed south to Dixon, or, as it was then called, Ogie’s Ferry, the only certain means of crossing this broad and rapid stream. This route being so much out of our direct course that we could not hope to accomplish it in less than six days, it was necessary to prepare accordingly.
While the wardrobe and provisions were thus in preparation, arrangements were also to be made as to our retinue and mode of conveyance.
Mr. Kinzie decided to take with him but two men: Plante and Pierre Roy.[[52]] The former to act as guide, on the assurance that he knew every mile of the way, from the Portage to Ogie’s Ferry, and from Ogie’s Ferry to Chicago.
The claims of the different saddle-horses were discussed, and the most eligible one selected for my use. We hesitated for a time between “Le Gris” and “Souris,” two much-vaunted animals, belonging to Paquette, the interpreter. At length being determined, like most of my sex, by a regard for exterior, I chose “Le Gris,” and “Souris” was assigned to young Roy; my own little stumpy pony, “Brunêt,” being pronounced just the thing for a pack-saddle. My husband rode his own bay horse “Tom,” while Plante, the gayest and proudest of the party, bestrode a fine, large animal called “Jerry,” which had lately been purchased for my use, and thus was our cortège complete.