``If I am obliged to storm, you may depend upon such treatment as is justly due to a murderer.And beware of destroying stores of any kind, or any papers or letters that are in your possession; or of hurting one house in the town.
For, by Heaven! if you do, there shall be no mercy shown you.
``To Lieutenant-Governor Hamilton.''
So read Colonel Clark, as he stood before the log fire in Monsieur Bouton's house at the back of the town, the captains grouped in front of him.
``Is that strong enough, gentlemen?'' he asked.
``To raise his hair,'' said Captain Charleville.
Captain Bowman laughed loudly.
``I reckon the boys will see to that,'' said he.
Colonel Clark folded the letter, addressed it, and turned gravely to Monsieur Bouton.
``You will oblige me, sir,'' said he, ``by taking this to Governor Hamilton.You will be provided with a flag of truce.''
Monsieur Bouton was a round little man, as his name suggested, and the men cheered him as he strode soberly up the street, a piece of sheeting tied to a sapling and flung over his shoulder.Through such humble agencies are the ends of Providence accomplished.Monsieur Bouton walked up to the gate, disappeared sidewise through the postern, and we sat down to breakfast.In a very short time Monsieur Bouton was seen coming back, and his face was not so impassive that the governors message could not be read thereon.
`` 'Tis not a love-letter he has, I'll warrant,'' said Terence, as the little man disappeared into the house.
So accurately had Monsieur Bouton's face betrayed the news that the men went back to their posts without orders, some with half a breakfast in hand.And soon the rank and file had the message.
``Lieutenant-Governor Hamilton begs leave to acquaint Colonel Clark that he and his garrison are not disposed to be awed into any action unworthy of British subjects.''
Our men had eaten, their enemy was within their grasp and Clark and all his officers could scarce keep them from storming.Such was the deadliness of their aim that scarce a shot came back, and time and again I saw men fling themselves in front of the breastworks with a war-whoop, wave their rifles in the air, and cry out that they would have the Ha'r Buyer's sculp before night should fall.It could not last.Not tuned to the nicer courtesies of warfare, the memory of Hamilton's war parties, of blackened homes, of families dead and missing, raged unappeased.These were not content to leave vengeance in the Lord's hands, and when a white flag peeped timorously above the gate a great yell of derision went up from river-bank to river-bank.Out of the poster n stepped the officer with the faded scarlet coat, and in due time went back again, haughtily, his head high, casting contempt right and left of him.Again the postern opened, and this time there was a cheer at sight of a man in hunting shirt and leggings and coonskin cap.After him came a certain Major Hay, Indian-enticer of detested memory, the lieutenant of him who followed--the Hair Buyer himself.
A murmur of hatred arose from the men stationed there;and many would have shot him where he stood but for Clark.
``The devil has the grit,'' said Cowan, though his eyes blazed.
It was the involuntary tribute.Lieutenant-Governor Hamilton stared indifferently at the glowering backwoodsmen as he walked the few steps to the church.
Not so Major Hay.His eyes fell.There was Colonel Clark waiting at the door through which the good Creoles had been wont to go to worship, bowing somewhat ironically to the British General.It was a strange meeting they had in St.Xavier's, by the light of the candles on the altar.Hot words passed in that house of peace, the General demanding protection for all his men, and our Colonel replying that he would do with the Indian partisans as he chose.
``And whom mean you by Indian partisans?'' the undaunted governor had demanded.
``I take Major Hay to be one of them,'' our Colonel had answered.
It was soon a matter of common report how Clark had gazed fixedly at the Major when he said this, and how the Major turned pale and trembled.With our own eyes we saw them coming out, Major Hay as near to staggering as a man could be, the governor blushing red for shame of him.So they went sorrowfully back to the gate.
Colonel Clark stood at the steps of the church, looking after them.
``What was that firing?'' he demanded sharply.``Igave orders for a truce.''
We who stood by the church had indeed heard firing in the direction of the hills east of the town, and had wondered thereat.Perceiving a crowd gathered at the far end of the street, we all ran thither save the Colonel, who directed to have the offenders brought to him at Monsieur Bouton's.We met the news halfway.A party of Canadians and Indians had just returned from the Falls of the Ohio with scalps they had taken.Captain Williams had gone out with his company to meet them, had lured them on, and finally had killed a number and was returning with the prisoners.Yes, here they were! Williams himself walked ahead with two dishevelled and frightened coureurs du bois, twoscore at least of the townspeople of Vincennes, friends and relatives of the prisoners, pressing about and crying out to Williams to have mercy on them.
As for Williams, he took them in to the Colonel, the towns people pressing into the door-yard and banking in front of it on the street.Behind all a tragedy impended, nor can I think of it now without sickening.
The frightened Creoles in the street gave back against the fence, and from behind them, issuing as a storm-cloud came the half of Williams' company, yelling like madmen.
