ou! If they but knew the
principles of that government for which you fight, they would renounce
the English allegiance, and the whole of this territory would be yours.
I know them, from Quebec to Detroit and Michilimackinac and Saint
Vincennes. Listen, monsieur," he cried, his homely face alight; "I
myself will go to Saint Vincennes for you. I will tell them the truth,
and you shall have the post for the asking."

"You will go to Vincennes!" exclaimed Clark; "a hard and dangerous
journey of a hundred leagues!"

"Monsieur," answered the priest, simply, "the journey is nothing. For a
century the missionaries of the Church have walked this wilderness alone
with God. Often they have suffered, and often died in tortures--but
gladly."

Colonel Clark regarded the man intently.

"The cause of liberty, both religious and civil, is our cause," Father
Gibault continued. "Men have died for it, and will die for it, and it
will prosper. Furthermore, Monsieur, my life has not known many wants.
I have saved something to keep my old age, with which to buy a little
house and an orchard in this peaceful place. The sum I have is at your
service. The good Congress will repay me. And you need the money."

Colonel Clark was not an impulsive man, but he felt none the less
deeply, as I know well. His reply to this generous offer was almost
brusque, but it did not deceive the priest.

"Nay, monsieur," he said, "it is for mankind I give it, in remembrance
of Him who gave everything. And though I receive nothing in return, I
shall have my reward an hundred fold."

In due time, I know not how, the talk swung round again to lightness,
for the Colonel loved a good story, and the priest had many which he
told with wit in his quaint French accent. As he was rising to take his
leave, Pere Gibault put his hand on my head.

"I saw your Excellency's son in the church this morning," he said.

Colonel Clark laughed and gave me a pinch.

"My dear sir," he said, "the boy is old enough to be my father."

The priest looked down at me with a puzzled expression in his brown
eyes.

"I would I had him for my son," said Colonel Clark, kindly; "but the lad
is eleven, and I shall not be twenty-six until next November."

"Your Excellency not twenty-six!" cried Father Gibault, in astonishment.
"What will you be when you are thirty?"

The young Colonel's face clouded.

"God knows!" he said.

Father Gibault dropped his eyes and turned to me with native