"I think, Lieutenant, that you'd better look around through the
village and see if you can scare up this Captain what's-his-name,"
said the new commander to a stalwart young officer who had come
with him. "I can't think of these French names without getting my
brain in a twist. Do you happen to recollect the Captain's name,
Lieutenant?"
"Yes, sir; Gaspard Roussillon it reads in Colonel Clark's order;
but I am told that he's away on a trading tour," said the young
man.
"You may be told anything by these hair-tongued parlyvoos," Helm
remarked. "It won't hurt, anyway, to find out where he lives and
make a formal call, just for appearance sake, and to enquire about
his health. I wish you would try it, sir, and let me know the
result."
The Lieutenant felt that this was a peremptory order and turned
about to obey promptly.
"And I say, Beverley, come back sober, if you possibly can," Helm
added in his most genial tone, thinking it a great piece of humor
to suggest sobriety to a man whose marked difference from men
generally, of that time, was his total abstinence from
intoxicating drinks.
Lieutenant Fitzhugh Beverley was a Virginian of Virginians. His
family had long been prominent in colonial affairs and boasted a
record of great achievements both in peace and in war. He was the
only son of his parents and heir to a fine estate consisting of
lands and slaves; but, like many another of the restless young
cavaliers of the Old Dominion, he had come in search of adventure
over into Kentucky, along the path blazed by Daniel Boone; and
when Clark organized his little army, the young man's patriotic
and chivalrous nature leaped at the opportunity to serve his
country under so gallant a commander.
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