CHAPTER XI. THE SECRET DISCLOSED.

“Gentlemen of Kentucky and Virginia,” began the colonel, “for six long years have we striven on the dark and bloody ground to keep a foothold on the inheritance we are earning for our children. For three years of that time, our whole land has been fighting against fearful odds on the side of the unnatural mother country. Not content with hiring Hessians to come over and murder us, they have bribed the savages to fire our houses and scalp women and children, from Cherry Valley to Harrodsburg.”

Here there was a growl of assent, “That’s so.” “Cuss ’em.” “We’ll get square, some day.”

“Soldiers,” continued Clark, addressing them by the title he knew they were most proud of, “the time has come when we must turn the tables on the British. Saratoga has shown them that we can beat their best troops, and all along the Atlantic States they are running like whipped hounds!”

A tremendous yell greeted the reference.

“Now,” cried the colonel, “since we are safe on the east, let us turn to the west. The Indians have tormented us long enough. We chase them, and ’tis like attacking a swarm of wasps. We can not catch them. Well, boys, what do you do when the wasps get too troublesome?”

He paused, as if to await a reply. There was an awkward silence for near a minute. Then Daniel Boone, who stood near Clark, and out of the ranks, observed in his clear, quiet tones:

“We hunt for the nest, and burn it up, some night, colonel.”

“Right, old comrade!” exclaimed the young leader, amid a whispered chorus of excited comments; “we find the nest, and burn it up. Well, gentlemen, these wasps come not from one nest, but three: and their names are Detroit, St.[48] Vincent’s,[2] and Kaskaskia. Detroit is a fortified town, beyond our reach. St. Vincent’s is too strong for us as yet. Kaskaskia, the furthest of all, is the most dangerous to Kentucky. Secure in their distance from us, the British think they need fear nothing. Gentlemen, I have orders from Governor Henry of Virginia to take Kaskaskia and save Kentucky forever. Who will volunteer to go with me, and strangle the snake in his den?”

There was a deep silence following this speech, at the end of which Captain Harrod stepped forward and made a characteristic speech:

“Colonel George Rogers Clark, Esquire: Sir, I’ve be’n a-grumblin’ a long time about these hyar secret orders, and, I reckon, be’n makin’ a darned jackmule of myself about it. Colonel, I take it all back, and damme, sir, I’ll lift the ha’r off any feller as says you ain’t a full team and two mules to spar’, with a yaller dawg hitched under the tail-board. I’m with you, colonel, while thar’s a drop of blood in my body, and these hyar Harrodsburg hu’sters, they travel with me, you kin bet all the clothes you ever owned. Thar!”

A rousing cheer from Harrod’s company applauded the speech, and it was followed by equally warm indorsement from every captain and company, with one exception.

This was captain Dillard, whose company was raised near Harrod’s, and entertained considerable jealousy of the others.

Captain Dillard, when questioned point-blank by Clark, before the rest, replied:

“Waal, colonel, ef I’d knowed you war a-goin’ on any sich a wild-goose chase as this hyar, I wouldn’t have pledged my credit to the boys, and asked ’em to come. You’re a-goin’ a long way, and it’s more than likely you’ll git beat. Ef so, whar are ye? Worse off than ever, a thousand miles from hum, and no one to help ye?”

The cautious captain’s words were not without their effect[49] in damping the men’s spirits, and it was with great adroitness that Clark replied, in closing the discussion:

“That’s all provided for, captain. We have bateaux enough to carry us all down the Mississippi to New Orleans, where the Spanish and French will be only too glad to pay us like princes to fight the Indians for them. But we shall not get beat. We shall take them by surprise, kill the British soldiers, save Kentucky, and come home worth two hundred and fifty acres of land apiece. Governor Henry has promised it to us, and I have the patent in my pocket. Now, gentlemen, since you’re all agreed to follow me, disperse to your quarters. Captain Bowman, you are officer of the day. Secure all the boats, and place sentries at the ford. Let no man cross without my orders. I wish to see the captains in my cabin at once. Adjutant, dismiss the parade.”

As stiffly and formally as if nothing had happened, he signified by his manner that discussion was over. The officers returned to their companies; the little adjutant called up the sergeants and received reports; and finally parade was dismissed, with a ceremony rarely seen among the rough frontiersmen.

Guards were set around the boat and at the fort, and the whole camp was soon a buzz of conflicting voices on the prospects of the famous expedition to Kaskaskia. Some of Dillard’s men were disposed to gloomy prophecies, influenced by their captain, but the greater part were light-hearted, reckless hunters, to whom the idea of a distant and dangerous expedition acted as a charm.

These laughed at the croakers, and prognosticated great things of the expedition, as they devoured their rations, which the foresight of Clark had collected at the falls in large quantities. None knew better than Clark the road through the stomach to a soldier’s heart, and none appreciated it better.

At last all was quiet, and the fires dying away, the camp was buried in profound slumber.

Two hours after midnight Colonel Clark was awakened by a touch on his shoulder. Starting up, he saw the little adjutant before him, who spoke at once.

[50]

“Colonel, the whole of Dillard’s men, with their first lieutenant, have deserted, and forded the river on the way home.”

In a moment Clark was on his feet, broad awake.

“Have they taken their horses? Has any one else gone? Have the sentries at the ford played us false?”

“Not one, sir. The scoundrels crossed higher up, leaving their horses in camp. Dillard remains here. I only found it out five minutes ago, while making my rounds.”

Clark laid his hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Frank, you’re little, but you’re worth ten giants. Call the bugler and sound to arms. I’ll send you after them, lad.”

The leader walked quickly out to the parade-ground, and inside of five minutes the bugle sounded and the men came filing out of their bivouacs in silence, forming with a celerity and order that veteran soldiers could not have excelled. They were all well used to night alarms, and expected an Indian attack at least.

When the colonel, in a few brief, nervous words, informed them of the cowardly treachery of their comrades, and called for a party to pursue them, there was a roar of indignation. Every man in camp clamored to go after the “durned ornary skunks,” as they called them, and Clark hastily selected the first score who presented themselves, mounted them on the horses of the deserters, and sent them off with Captain Harrod and the little adjutant, with orders to shoot all who resisted.

Away went the capturing party at full speed across the ford, and the rest of the night was spent in excited discussion, for all were too angry to sleep.

About an hour before noon Harrod’s party returned with seven or eight of the captured deserters, reporting the rest as scattered to the four winds, and the rest of the day was spent in selecting the companies to go to Kaskaskia, while the rest were detailed to go to Kentucky and defend the frontiers during the absence of their comrades.

Then on the next day, the 24th June, 1778, ten bateaux, carrying four strong companies of hardy rangers, dropped down the rapids of the Ohio, and set off on their dangerous expedition to the unknown wilds of the Illinois country;[51] while, as if to appall them with the terrors of superstition, the sun passed into a total eclipse, and darkness covered the heavens at the instant they entered the passage.[3] There let us leave them, on their venturesome way, and turn to the great post which they were trying to reach.