hairs, and a crucifix in the
corner. It served as dining room, parlor, bedroom, for there was a
pallet too. Now the table was covered with parchments and papers, and
beside Colonel Clark sat a grave gentleman of about his own age. As I
came into the room Colonel Clark relaxed, turned toward this gentleman,
and said:--

"Monsieur Gratiot, behold my commissary-general, my strategist, my
financier." And Monsieur Gratiot smiled. He struck me as a man who never
let himself go sufficiently to laugh.

"Ah," he said, "Vigo has told me how he settled the question of paper
money. He might do something for the Congress in the East."

"Davy is a Scotchman, like John Law," said the Colonel, "and he is a
master at perceiving a man's character and business.

"What would you call me, at a venture, Davy?" asked Monsieur Gratiot.

He spoke excellent English, with only a slight accent.

"A citizen of the world, like Monsieur Vigo," I answered at a hazard.

"Pardieu!" said Monsieur Gratiot, "you are not far away. Like Monsieur
Vigo I keep a store here at Cahokia. Like Monsieur Vigo, I have
travelled much in my day. Do you know where Switzerland is, Davy?"

I did not.

"It is a country set like a cluster of jewels in the heart of Europe,"
said Monsieur Gratiot, "and there are mountains there that rise among
the clouds and are covered with perpetual snows. And when the sun sets
on those snows they are rubies, and the skies above them sapphire."

"I was born amongst the mountains, sir," I answered, my pulse quickening
at his description, "but they were not so high as those you speak of."

"Then," said Monsieur Gratiot, "you can understand a little my sorrow
as a lad when I left it. From Switzerland I went to a foggy place called
London, and thence I crossed the ocean to the solemn forests of the
north of Canada, where I was many years, learning the characters of
these gentlemen who are looking in upon us." And he waved his arm at
the line of peering red faces by the pickets. Monsieur Gratiot smiled
at Clark. "And there's another point of resemblance between myself and
Monsieur Vigo."

"Have you taken the paper money?" I demanded.

Monsieur Gratiot slapped his linen breeches. "That I have," and this
time I thought he was going to laugh. But he did not, though his eyes
sparkled. "And do you think that the good Congress will ever repay me,
Davy?"

"No, sir," said I.

"Peste!" exclaimed Monsieur Gratiot, but he did not seem to b