name of
Liberty? What have those blood-stained adventurers to do with Liberty,
what have the fish-wives who love the sight of blood to do with you that
would fight for them? You warned me that this people and this government
to which you have given so much would be ungrateful,--will the butchers
and fish-wives be more grateful?"

He caught only the word GRATEFUL, and he rose to his feet with something
of the old straightness and of the old power. And by evil chance his
eye, and mine, fell upon a sword hanging on the farther wall. Well I
remembered when he had received it, well I knew the inscription on its
blade, "Presented by the State of Virginia to her beloved son, George
Rogers Clark, who by the conquest of Illinois and St. Vincennes extended
her empire and aided in the defence of her liberties." By evil chance,
I say, his eye lighted on that sword. In three steps he crossed the room
to where it hung, snatched it from its scabbard, and ere I could prevent
him he had snapped it across his knee and flung the pieces in a corner.

"So much for the gratitude of my country," he said.

* * * * * * *

I had gone out on the little porch and stood gazing over the expanse of
forest and waters lighted by the afterglow. Then I felt a hand upon my
shoulder, I heard a familiar voice calling me by an old name.

"Yes, General!" I turned wonderingly.

"You are a good lad, Davy. I trust you," he said. "I--I was expecting
some friends."

He lifted a hand that was not too steady to his brow and scanned the
road leading to the fort. Even as he spoke four figures emerged from the
woods,--undoubtedly the gentlemen who had held the council at the inn
that afternoon. We watched them in silence as they drew nearer, and then
something in the walk and appearance of the foremost began to bother me.
He wore a long, double-breasted, claret-colored redingote that fitted
his slim figure to perfection, and his gait was the easy gait of a man
who goes through the world careless of its pitfalls. So intently did I
stare that I gave no thought to those who followed him. Suddenly, when
he was within fifty paces, a cry escaped me,--I should have known that
smiling, sallow, weakly handsome face anywhere in the world.

The gentleman was none other than Monsieur Auguste de St. Gre. At
the foot of the steps he halted and swept his hand to his hat with a
military salute.

"Citizen General," he said gracefully, "we come and pay our respec's to