oth care and age.

"I feel the honor of your recognition, sir," he said with dignity.
"Knox, I believe you said? Of the Knox family at Cape Girardeau, may I
inquire?"

"No connection to my knowledge; my home was at Wheeling."

"Ah! I have never been so far east; indeed the extent of my travels
along the beautiful Ohio has only been to the Falls. The Beaucaires
were originally from Louisiana."

"You must have been among the earlier settlers of Missouri?"

"Before the Americans came, sir," proudly. "My grandfather arrived at
Beaucaire Landing during the old French regime; but doubtless you know
all this?"

"No, Judge," I answered, recognizing the egotism of the man, but
believing frankness to be the best policy. "This happens to be my
first trip on the upper river, and I merely chanced to know your name
because you had been pointed out to me by Captain Thockmorton. I
understood from him that you represented one of the oldest families in
that section."

"There were but very few here before us," he answered, with undisguised
pride. "Mostly wilderness outcasts, _voyageurs_, _coureurs de bois_;
but my grandfather's grant of land was from the King. Alphonse de
Beaucaire, sir, was the trusted lieutenant of D'Iberville--a soldier,
and a gentleman."

I bowed in acknowledgment the family arrogance of the man interesting
me deeply. So evident was this pride of ancestry that a sudden
suspicion flared into my mind that this might be all the man had
left--this memory of the past.

"The history of those early days is not altogether familiar to me," I
admitted regretfully. "But surely D'Iberville must have ruled in
Louisiana more than one hundred years ago?"

The Judge smiled.

"Quite true. This grant of ours was practically his last official act.
Alphonse de Beaucaire took possession in 1712, one hundred and twenty
years ago, sir. I was myself born at Beaucaire, sixty-eight years ago."

"I should have guessed you as ten years younger. And the estate still
remains in its original grant?"

The smile of condescension deserted his eyes, and his thin lips pressed
tightly together.

"I--I regret not; many of the later years have proven disastrous in the
extreme," he admitted, hesitatingly. "You will pardon me, sir, if I
decline to discuss misfortune. Ah, Monsieur Kirby! I have been
awaiting you. Have you met with this young man who came aboard at Fort
Armstrong? I--I am unable to recall the name."

"Ste