M. Roussillon had
taken advantage of the first moment when he and Hamilton were left
alone. One herculean buffet, a swinging smash of his enormous fist
on the point of the Governors jaw, and then he walked out of the
fort unchallenged, doubtless on account of his lordly and
masterful air.
"Ziff!" he exclaimed, shaking himself and lifting his shoulders,
when he had passed beyond hearing of the sentinel at the gate,
"ziff! I can punch a good stiff stroke yet, Monsieur le
Gouverneur. Ah, ziff!" and he blew like a porpoise.
Every effort was promptly made to recapture M. Roussillon; but his
disappearance was absolute; even the reward offered for his scalp
by Hamilton only gave the Indians great trouble--they could not
find the man.
Such a beginning of his administration of affairs at Vincennes did
not put Hamilton into a good humor. He was overbearing and
irascible at best, and under the irritation of small but
exceedingly unpleasant experiences he made life well-nigh
unendurable to those upon whom his dislike chanced to fall.
Beverley quickly felt that it was going to be very difficult for
him and Hamilton to get along agreeably. With Helm it was quite
different; smoking, drinking, playing cards, telling good stories--
in a word, rude and not unfrequently boisterous conviviality drew
him and the commandant together.
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