hey
went into the little orchard behind the house and sat drinking (in the
French fashion) the commandant's precious coffee which had been sent to
him from far-away New Orleans. Colonel Clark plied the priest with
questions of the French towns under English rule: and Father Gibault,
speaking for his simple people, said that the English had led them easily
to believe that the Kentuckians were cutthroats.

"Ah, monsieur," he said, "if they but knew you! 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."