A Volunteer with Pike Part 9

"An empire!" I repeated. "The spoils to the victor--and to his followers. At what, sir, do you appraise my worth?"

His answer was ready to glibness: "The t.i.tle of marquis, an estate to support the dignity, and a seat in my privy council, or such other office as your merits may indicate during the consummation of our projects."

"You have made sure of Senor Vallois?" I demanded.

"He is with us hand and glove. I have planned to cross the Alleghanies about midsummer. Senor Vallois has gone before, to negotiate with certain persons at St. Louis and New Orleans, whom otherwise I might find difficult of approach."

"He has gone west?" I repeated, unable to credit my ears.

"At my request. It was required that he should go by way of New Orleans, in any event, and the coastwise voyage is far from pleasant at this season. Hatteras has an evil name in equinoctial weather. Also there is danger of Spanish pirates off Cuba and in the Gulf. It is hard to find pa.s.sage in other than an American ship, and a cannon-ball or musket shot fired by a Spanish pirate at a Yankee hull would not turn aside to avoid the Spanish don who chanced to be aboard that selfsame Yankee."

Masking my eagerness with a smile at the conceit he pictured, I remarked in as casual a tone as I could command: "The don, then, is well on his way to St. Louis?"

"Not he!" snapped the Colonel. "It is now only seven--no, eight days since he started. Knowing the condition of the roads, I advised that he should take to the saddle, and leave his charming niece to continue her visit with my daughter Theodosia, who, as doubtless you have heard, is the wife of Senator Allston of South Carolina. I may mention in confidence that my son-in-law is one of the foremost of all those interested in our grand project. When I begin my second Western tour, both he and my beloved Theodosia and my little grandson will accompany me."

"From all that I have heard, sir, Mrs. Allston has only to make an acquaintance to find a friend," I said.

His fond ear was quick to catch the sincerity of my tone, and a look of the most profound and unselfish love enn.o.bled his crafty face. But my own love cried out for an ending of the bitter-sweet suspense.

"So Senor Vallois was so ill advised as to take with him his niece?--or was she not his daughter?" I commented.

"His niece. Did you not meet her at the table of our Jacobin philosopher? To be sure you did! I have not so soon forgotten that gallant exploit with the fence rails!... Thanks to the obstinacy of her uncle, she will be muddying that dainty arched foot in the wayside bog for days to come. There will be few Dr. Robinsons between here and Pittsburg to pry out the carriage of the bemired Dulcinea."

"Ah, well," I observed, "doubtless the senor will arrive in time enough to take advantage of the spring fresh. What he loses on the road he will regain by the added swiftness of the Ohio's current."

"True--true."

"I had myself thought to take advantage of the early floods. My interests impel me to return to Louisiana as speedily as possible."

The Colonel gave me another of his shrewd looks. "You will not take it amiss, doctor," he said, "if I repeat current gossip that the object of your Winter in the Federal City was not attained." I nodded, without show of offence, and he added quickly, "As well, as well, my dear sir!

It has brought you better fortune, and your wish atop! You shall have a letter from me to General Wilkinson."

The suddenness of this took me unawares, but he had turned at the words to summon the servant, and did not observe my confusion. Calling for pen, ink, and paper, he turned again to me with outstretched hand.

"Your hand to it, doctor!" he cried. "You are with us?--you cast in your fortune with the future Empire of the West?"

"A word, sir," I protested. "The heritage left me by my father was scant as to property, but I have found it rich in wisdom. It included this old adage, 'Look before you leap.'"

"Good! good, sir! Most excellent advice! Yet have I not shown you the prospect?"

"You have, sir, and not without avail. It is an alluring prospect. I confess myself tempted. Yet--I have seen what the French term the mirage. I should prefer to hold my decision until I have dipped my cup in the lake and found it filled."

"Eh! eh!" he chuckled. "I'll wager there's Scotch blood in your veins--Scotch blood!"

"At the least, I would look closer at the water," I insisted.

"You shall, sir--my word for it!" he responded, with an a.s.surance which shook my last doubt. "You shall have the letter to Wilkinson. When it has brought you your wish, then, and not until then, need you consider your pledge binding."

"Sir," I said, tempted beyond my strength, "I accept the terms."

"Your hand to it!" he cried, and his soft white fingers closed about mine with a strength of grip that astonished me. "To you, sir, shall be entrusted the double mission of opening communication across the Western boundaries with our Mexican allies, and of negotiating with the present Spanish authorities for the Santa Fe trade. I need hardly mention to a man of your intelligence that such projects as we contemplate are not carried to completion without funds. To me falls the task of collecting the sinews of war."

"To me the leadership of the scouts!" I cried. "I am doubly hot to take the road. Dawn shall see me in the saddle!"

"The fire of youth!" he exclaimed, again clasping my hand. "Go, make your preparations. You will ride none the less swiftly that you carry a packet of letters for me."

"Willingly!"

"You think to go south to New Orleans?" I bowed. "Then a letter as well to Daniel Clark."

"I am known to him."

"True; but I have word to send him--no less to Wilkinson--regarding the death of Pitt."

"It is months since that event," I remarked. "The Prime Minister died in January."

"The post to Louisiana is uncertain. Wilkinson at least may not have heard, and I have comments to make. You will deliver the letters for me?"

"I should be pleased to do so, sir. It is a small enough favor to undertake, even for a chance acquaintance."

"But a favor that shall be remembered, doctor. Your lodging?"

"The Plow Inn."

"The packet shall be in your hands by evening," he replied.

I rose at the words, and he showed me to the door, with repeated a.s.surances of confidence and esteem.

CHAPTER VII

SHIP AND CREW

The promised packet of letters was delivered to me at the Plow shortly after dark, by the man who had served coffee at the Colonel's. It was accompanied by a note in which Mr. Burr pleaded pressing business as an excuse for not delivering the packet in person. To this he had added a postscript empowering me to break the seal of the packet upon my arrival at St. Louis.

It struck me as most odd that the packet should have been sealed at all.

But upon reflection, I concluded that this was a very proper precaution against a chance inspection of the contents by prying busy-bodies who should happen to handle the packet. The letters might well contain statements open to misconstruction by the Colonel's numerous and powerful enemies, or details of plans, publicity of which, owing to the necessity of secrecy, might disconcert the progress of the great project. The instruction to me to open the packet upon my arrival prevented any questioning of the Colonel's confidence in myself.

Thanks to a large hostler-fee, my horse came from the stable after his day of rest as fresh as when we left Washington, and hardened by the trip. He had need for all the endurance within his nature. Before dawn his hoofs were clattering across the great new bridge over the Schuylkill.

In the dense night of the bridge's enclosed roof and sides, it was like riding through a hall of vast length, with no guidance other than the faint starlight at the far end. The thought struck me that this was apt symbol of my love-quest. The darkness was as the night of my lady's fathomless eyes, through which in the uncertain distance I could no more than fancy a dim starlight of hope.

Musing on the conceit, I continued the allegory as we left the bridge and splattered away on the old colonial road to the Monongahela, with the fancy that in spirit, as in body, I had pa.s.sed from the shut-in blackness out into the openness of s.p.a.ce, and that before me was promise of fair dawn.

The day's dawn came as promised, bringing me still greater elevation of spirit. And within the mile a mischievous farmer's brat by the wayside tumbled me from heaven to muddy earth by howling in a voice of lively concern that my horse had lost his tail. So near does the ridiculous skirt the sublime! I had begun my journey on the Day of All Fools.