“General!” I said.

He started, got to his feet, and stared at me.

“Oh, it’s—­it’s Davy,” he said.  “I—­I was expecting—­some friends—­Davy.  What—­what’s the matter, Davy?”

“I have been away.  I am glad to see you again, General.

“Citizen General, sir, Major-general in the army of the French Republic and Commander-in-chief of the French Revolutionary Legion on the Mississippi.”

“You will always be Colonel Clark to me, sir,” I answered.

“You—­you were the drummer boy, I remember, and strutted in front of the regiment as if you were the colonel.  Egad, I remember how you fooled the Kaskaskians when you told them we were going away.”  He looked at me, but his eyes were still fixed on the point beyond.  “You were always older than I, Davy.  Are you married?”

In spite of myself, I laughed as I answered this question.

“You are as canny as ever,” he said, putting his hand on my shoulder.  “Liberty, Equality, Fraternity,—­they are only possible for the bachelor.”  Hearing a noise, he glanced nervously in the direction of the woods, only to perceive his negro carrying a pail of water.  “I—­I was expecting some friends,” he said.  “Sit down, Davy.”

“I hope I am not intruding, General,” I said, not daring to look at him.

“No, no, my son,” he answered, “you are always welcome.  Did we not campaign together?  Did we not—­shoot these very falls together on our way to Kaskaskia?” He had to raise his voice above the roar of the water.  “Faith, well I remember the day.  And you saved it, Davy,—­you, a little gamecock, a little worldly-wise hop-o’-my-thumb, eh?  Hamilton’s scalp hanging by a lock, egad—­and they frightened out of their five wits because it was growing dark.”  He laughed, and suddenly became solemn again.  “There comes a time in every man’s life when it grows dark, Davy, and then the cowards are afraid.  They have no friends whose hands they can reach out and feel.  But you are my friend.  You remember that you said you would always be my friend?  It—­it was in the fort at Vincennes.”

“I remember, General.”

He rose from the steps, buttoned his waistcoat, and straightened himself with an effort.  He looked at me impressively.

“You have been a good friend indeed, Davy, a faithful friend,” he said.  “You came to me when I was sick, you lent me money,”—­he waved aside my protest.  “I am happy to say that I shall soon be in a position to repay you, to reward you.  My evil days are over, and I spurn that government which spurned me, for the honor and glory of which I founded that city,”—­he pointed in the direction of Louisville,—­“for the power and wealth of which I conquered this Northwest territory.  Listen!  I am now in the service of a republic where the people have rights, I am Commander-in-chief of the French Revolutionary Legion on the Mississippi.  Despite the supineness of Washington, the American nation will soon be at war with Spain.  But my friends—­and thank God they are many—­will follow me—­they will follow me to Natchez and New Orleans,—­ay, even to Santa Fe and Mexico if I give the word.  The West is with me, and for the West I shall win the freedom of the Mississippi.  For France and Liberty I shall win back again Louisiana, and then I shall be a Marechal de Camp.”