ly in my head. Every detail must be
worked out in practice."

"Burr, you are more circumspect than I gave you credit for being.
There is always danger in the dark. Have you entertained the
possibility of defection?"

"I have measured my ground, and calculated the curve of my leap. I
shall not fall into an abyss, or dash myself upon a rock. If we fail
to sever the Union, and do not succeed in the conquest of Mexico, I
have so masked our designs as to make them appear in the guise of
innocent land-speculations on the Wachita river."

XI. PALAFOX GROWS INSOLENT.

Early in October Wilkinson's duties required him to visit the town of
Genevive, some fifty miles south of St. Louis. The best cabin in a
keelboat had been furnished in sumptuous style for the accommodation
of the self-indulgent chief. Such was the attractiveness of this cosy
retreat that the general preferred it to his official quarters on the
shore and he occasionally spent a whole afternoon reading, writing or
dozing there in undisturbed privacy.

On the day before that fixed for his departure he prolonged his stay
in the cabin to a late hour, for reasons partly physical, partly
mental. His robust health and ebullient spirits were suffering an
unwonted depression. Even his strong constitution could not withstand
the "miasmatic" vapor of the lowlands near the Western watercourses.
The malarial poison had entered his blood, causing low fever, dull
headache and general hypochondria. Copious doses of Peruvian bark
bitters aggravated the unpleasant symptoms. Moreover, the weather had
turned unseasonably raw and gusty. The characteristic mildness of
October gave way to gloomy inclemency. The month was not like its
usual self, and Wilkinson partook of its exceptional harsh melancholy.
Appropriate for a season so dreary was the sad name of Fall--Fall,
the period of decline, decay and death. For the first time in his life
Wilkinson "heard the voice which tells men they are old," though he
was not old.

The general sat holding in his hand a short letter, in cipher. The
last sentence did not please him. "God bless you and grant you a safe
deliverance from factions and factious men." These words Wilkinson
read over and over. To him, in his dejected mood, with nerves unstrung
and head swimming in quinine bitters, the blessing sounded ironical; a
mocking face seemed concealed behind the mask of considerate
friendliness. The tone of the communication struck him