At noon we crossed, piecemeal, a deep lake in the canoes, and marching awhile came to a timber-covered rise which our French prisoners named as the Warriors’ Island.  And from the shelter of its trees we saw the steely lines of a score of low ponds, and over the tops of as many ridges a huddle of brown houses on the higher ground.

And this was the place we had all but sold our lives to behold!  This was Vincennes at last!  We were on the heights behind the town,—­we were at the back door, as it were.  At the far side, on the Wabash River, was the front door, or Fort Sackville, where the banner of England snapped in the February breeze.

We stood there, looking, as the afternoon light flooded the plain.  Suddenly the silence was broken.

“Hooray for Clark!” cried a man at the edge of the copse.

“Hooray for Clark!”—­it was the whole regiment this time.  From execration to exaltation was but a step, after all.  And the Creoles fell to scoffing at their sufferings and even forgot their hunger in staring at the goal.  The backwoodsmen took matters more stolidly, having acquired long since the art of waiting.  They lounged about, cleaning their guns, watching the myriad flocks of wild ducks and geese casting blue-black shadows on the ponds.

“Arrah, McChesney,” said Terence, as he watched the circling birds, “Clark’s a great man, but ’tis more riverince I’d have for him if wan av thim was sizzling on the end of me ramrod.”

“I’d sooner hev the Ha’r Buyer’s sculp,” said Tom.

Presently there was a drama performed for our delectation.  A shot came down the wind, and we perceived that several innocent Creole gentlemen, unconscious of what the timber held, were shooting the ducks and geese.  Whereupon Clark chose Antoine and three of our own Creoles to sally out and shoot likewise—­as decoys.  We watched them working their way over the ridges, and finally saw them coming back with one of the Vincennes sportsmen.  I cannot begin to depict the astonishment of this man when he reached the copse, and was led before our lean, square-shouldered commander.  Yes, monsieur, he was a friend of les Americains.  Did Governor Hamilton know that a visit was imminent?  Pardieu (with many shrugs and outward gestures of the palms), Governor Hamilton had said if the Long Knives had wings or fins they might reach him now—­he was all unprepared.

“Gentlemen,” said Colonel Clark to Captains Bowman and McCarty and Williams, “we have come so far by audacity, and we must continue by audacity.  It is of no use to wait for the gunboat, and every moment we run the risk of discovery.  I shall write an open letter to the inhabitants of Vincennes, which the prisoner shall take into town.  I shall tell them that those who are true to the oath they swore to Father Gibault shall not be molested if they remain quietly in their houses.  Let those who are on the side of the Hair Buyer General and his King go to the fort and fight there.”