Strange as it
may seem, theirs was the conquering spirit of America--the spirit
which has survived every turn of progress and built up the great
body of our independence.
Beverley submitted to Clark's plan with what patience he could,
and all night long fired shot for shot with the best riflemen in
his squad. It was a fatiguing performance, with apparently little
result beyond forcing the garrison now and again to close the
embrasures. thus periodically silencing the cannon. Toward the
close of the night a relaxation showed itself in the shouting and
firing all round the line. Beverley's men, especially the creoles,
held out bravely in the matter of noise; but even they flagged at
length, their volatility simmering down to desultory bubbling and
half sleepy chattering and chaffing.
Beverley leaned upon a rude fence, and for a time neglected to
reload his hot rifle. Of course he was thinking of Alice,--he
really could not think in any other direction; but it gave him a
shock and a start when he presently heard her name mentioned by a
little Frenchman near him on the left.
"There'll never be another such a girl in Post Vincennes as Alice
Roussillon," the fellow said in the soft creole patois, "and to
think of her being shot like a dog!"
"And by a man who calls himself a Governor, too!" said another.
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