“I will get to Vincennes,” said Colonel Clark, so gently that Monsieur Vigo knew he meant it.  “I will swim to Vincennes.”

Monsieur Vigo raised his hands to heaven.  The three of us went out of the door and walked.  There was a snowy place in front of the church all party-colored like a clown’s coat,—­scarlet capotes, yellow capotes, and blue capotes, and bright silk handkerchiefs.  They surrounded the Colonel.  Pardieu, what was he to do now?  For the British governor and his savages were coming to take revenge on them because, in their necessity, they had declared for Congress.  Colonel Clark went silently on his way to the gate; but Monsieur Vigo stopped, and Kaskaskia heard, with a shock, that this man of iron was to march against Vincennes.

The gates of the fort were shut, and the captains summoned.  Undaunted woodsmen as they were, they were lukewarm, at first, at the idea of this march through the floods.  Who can blame them?  They had, indeed, sacrificed much.  But in ten minutes they had caught his enthusiasm (which is one of the mysteries of genius).  And the men paraded in the snow likewise caught it, and swung their hats at the notion of taking the Hair Buyer.

“’Tis no news to me,” said Terence, stamping his feet on the flinty ground; “wasn’t it Davy that pointed him out to us and the hair liftin’ from his head six months since?”

“Und you like schwimmin’, yes?” said Swein Poulsson, his face like the rising sun with the cold.

“Swimmin’, is it?” said Terence, “sure, the divil made worse things than wather.  And Hamilton’s beyant.”

“I reckon that’ll fetch us through,” Bill Cowan put in grimly.

It was a blessed thing that none of us had a bird’s-eye view of that same water.  No man of force will listen when his mind is made up, and perhaps it is just as well.  For in that way things are accomplished.  Clark would not listen to Monsieur Vigo, and hence the financier had, perforce, to listen to Clark.  There were several miracles before we left.  Monsieur Vigo, for instance, agreed to pay the expenses of the expedition, though in his heart he thought we should never get to Vincennes.  Incidentally, he was never repaid.  Then there were the French—­yesterday, running hither and thither in paroxysms of fear; to-day, enlisting in whole companies, though it were easier to get to the wild geese of the swamps than to Hamilton.  Their ladies stitched colors day and night, and presented them with simple confidence to the Colonel in the church.  Twenty stands of colors for 170 men, counting those who had come from Cahokia.  Think of the industry of it, of the enthusiasm behind it!  Twenty stands of colors!  Clark took them all, and in due time it will be told how the colors took Vincennes.  This was because Colonel Clark was a man of destiny.

Furthermore, Colonel Clark was off the next morning at dawn to buy a Mississippi keel-boat.  He had her rigged up with two four-pounders and four swivels, filled her with provisions, and called her the Willing.  She was the first gunboat on the Western waters.  A great fear came into my heart, and at dusk I stole back to the Colonel’s house alone.  The snow had turned to rain, and Terence stood guard within the doorway.