A little wine makes him eloquent. He talks with his hands,
shoulders, eyes. Madame Roussillon, Alice and Jean, wrapped in
furs, huddled around him to hear. He was very entertaining, and
they forgot the patrol until a noise startled them. It was the low
of a cow. They laughed and the master of the house softened his
voice.
M. Roussillon had been the guest of a great Indian chieftain, who
was called the "Gate of the Wabash," because he controlled the
river. The chief was an old acquaintance and treated him well.
"But I wanted to see you all," Gaspard said. "I was afraid
something might have happened to you. So I came back just to peep
in. I can't stay, of course; Hamilton would kill me as if I were a
wolf. I can remain but an hour and then slip out of town again
before daylight conies. The rain and darkness are my friends."
He had seen Simon Kenton, who said he had been in the neighborhood
of Vincennes acting as a scout and spy for Clark. Presently and
quite casually he added:
"And I saw Lieutenant Beverley, too. I suppose you know that he
has escaped from Hamilton, and--" Here a big mouthful of venison
interfered.
Alice leaned toward him white and breathless, her heart standing
still.
Then the door, which had been left unbarred, was flung open and,
along with a great rush of wind and rain, the patrol guard, five
in number, sprang in.
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