"Of death, no; but of dishonor."
"Dishonor! Should the Spanish dare—"
"No, not the Spaniards—not that. But our own people."
"Explain!" he demanded.
I opened my mouth to accuse his General—and paused. After all, what proof had I of Wilkinson's connivance in the plans of Colonel Burr? What proof had I that even Burr's plans were treasonable? I should have been an outright imbecile to have entertained the slightest doubt of the zealous loyalty and patriotism of my friend,—and Wilkinson was his General and his patron. Why poison his mind against one who had shown him great favors and was in a position as Commander-in-Chief to show him even greater favors? We could not now hope to return to the Mississippi settlements for several months. Why fill my friend's mind with anxieties over plots and projects which might never develop, or which, even if not stillborn, might well be counted upon to reach maturity long before we should have a chance to oppose them?
So, instead of Wilkinson's name, it was Burr's which passed my hesitating lips; and in my account of the little I knew of the late Vice-President's grand projects, I took care to omit the name of Wilkinson. My companion listened with his usual seriousness, but at the end smilingly shook his head, and declared that he believed the Colonel's schemes were all based on pure speculation, and would end in air. As I have stated, I could not tell him my reasons for suspecting that his General had plotted with Burr. Yet this was the very crux of the affair. It was evident, in my opinion, that at about the time of my visit to him in Natchez Wilkinson had become frightened, and was rapidly coming to the decision of withdrawing from Burr's projects. But supposing he, the military chief of the army and the Governor of the Upper Territory, should gain heart to cast in his fortunes with the great plotter, would those projects then be so visionary?
My friend went on with an argument which proved only how little he suspected any connection between our expedition and Burr's plot. He explained at great length—to his own satisfaction, though not to mine—that our secret instructions to spy upon the Spaniards related only to the far-from-probable event of war between their country and our own.
On his part, he then came at me with a shrewd inquiry as to my real motive for volunteering with the expedition. I immediately confided to him everything relating to my romance. There was now no reason why I should hold back anything about Alisanda, and indeed I should have told him all long before, had it not been that since our start from Belle Fontaine we had never chanced to be alone together other than at times when matters of great concern to ourselves or the expedition absorbed our interest.
My confession won me, as I had foreseen, a most ardent ally. He listened with all the joyful sympathy of one who has been happy in the love of a true-hearted, beautiful wife.
"John! John! To think of it! All these months, and you never so much as whispered a word! A señorita from Old Spain? Never fear!" He looked me up and down with an air of severe appraisal. "She'll take you; she's bound to take you!"