t with man--the covenant of hope and progress.

Thomas Jefferson stretched out his right hand to meet that of
Meriwether Lewis. Their clasp was strong and firm. The eye of each man
blazed.

"Mr. Jefferson," said Meriwether Lewis, "this is your monument!"

"And yours," was the reply. "Come, then!"

He turned to the stairs, the pigeon still fondled in his arm. That
bird--a white one, with slate-blue tips to its wings--never needed to
labor again, for Mr. Jefferson kept it during its life, and long after
its death.

"Come now," he said, as he began to descend the ladder once more. "The
bird was loosed yesterday, late in the afternoon. It has done its
sixty or seventy-five miles an hour for us, counting out time lost in
the night. The ship which brought this news docked at New York
yesterday. The post stages carrying it hither cannot arrive before
tomorrow. This is news--the greatest of news that we could have.
Yesterday--this morning--we were a young and weak republic. Tomorrow
we shall be one of the powers of the world. Go, now--you have been
held in leash long enough, and the time to start has come. Tomorrow
you will go westward, to that new country which now is ours!"

Neither said anything further until once again they were in the
President's little office-room; but Thomas Jefferson's eye now was
afire.

"I count this the most important enterprise in which this country ever
was engaged," he exclaimed, his hands clenched. "Yonder lies the
greater America--you lead an army which will make far wider conquest
than all our troops won in the Revolutionary War. The stake is larger
than any man may dream. I see it--you see it--in time others also will
see. Tell me, my son, tell me once more! Come what may, no matter what
power shall move you, you will be faithful in this great trust? If I
have your promise, then I shall rest assured."

Thomas Jefferson, more agitated than any man had ever seen him,
dropped half trembling into his chair, his shaggy red mane about his
forehead, his long fingers shaking.

"I give you my promise, Mr. Jefferson," said Meriwether Lewis.

CHAPTER V

THE PELL-MELL AND SOME CONSEQUENCES

It was late in the afternoon when the secretary to the President
looked up from the crowded desk. "Mr. Jefferson," ventured he, "you
will pardon me----"

"Yes, my son?"

"It grows late. You know that today the British minister, Mr. Merry,
comes to meet the President for the first time formall