The Rose of Old St. Louis

by Mary Dillon

  CHAPTER III

  I MEET AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE

  "I am his Highness's dog at Kew; Pray tell me, sir, whose dog are you?"

  "Allons!" said Mr. Pierre Chouteau, "I will show you the village.There are yet two hours before Dr. Saugrain's dinner-hour arrives."

  We were standing on the wide gallery of Government House, looking upthe Rue de la Tour to the "Fort on the Hill" with its massive roundtowers of stone and high stockade. We had made our adieus to GovernorDelassus, and we were quite ready to accept Mr. Chouteau's invitation.Mr. Gratiot and Mr. Auguste Chouteau excused themselves fromaccompanying us on the ground of pressing business, but Mr. AugusteChouteau said he hoped soon to see us at his own house, and Mr.Gratiot promised to meet us at dinner at Dr. Saugrain's.

  So it was only four of us who set out (or five, if you count the blackas one), Mr. Chouteau and my captain leading, Dr. Saugrain and Ifollowing, with Yorke trailing in the rear; for Captain Clarke did notdare leave that ingenious black to his own devices, being well assuredthat it would certainly result in disaster to himself or to some ofthe habitans.

  Diagonally across the street, at the corner of the Rue de la Tour andthe Rue Royale, was a large garden, shut in by solid stone wallshigher than a man's head. Over the top of the walls fell branches offruit-trees, and grape-vines still with a few clusters of late grapeshanging from them. Beyond were the tops of lofty shade-trees, andbetween the branches, where the foliage was rapidly thinning, we couldcatch glimpses of the stone chimneys and dormer-windows of a greathouse.

  We turned into the Rue Royale and walked by the stone wall stretchingnorth a long distance. The morning had been frosty, but the noon sunwas hot, and we were glad to shelter ourselves under the overhangingboughs. It was Auguste Chouteau's place, but Pierre said he would lethis brother have the pleasure of showing it to us; and we were aboutto pass the wide entrance-gate half-way down the long wall when wewere stopped by a strange procession. Out of the gate filed slowly,solemnly, one at a time, a long line of fantastically dressed Indians.The two in front were attired alike in shabby old United Statesuniforms, with gold epaulets much tarnished and worn, dilapidated goldlace on collars and sleeves, and wearing on their heads military hatswith long draggled plumes. From thigh to the low moccasins their legswere entirely unclothed, and a more ludicrous combination than thecivilized coats and the bare brown legs I had never seen. The two inmilitary coats were evidently chiefs, and were followed by a long lineof braves sweltering under heavy Mackinac blankets, each armed with ascarlet umbrella in one hand and a palm-leaf fan in the other, toprotect them from the sun. Apparently they did not glance in ourdirection, but each one as he passed Mr. Chouteau saluted him with aguttural "Ugh!" to which Mr. Chouteau responded in the most militaryfashion.

  "They are on their way to my place, and we will let them get wellahead of us," Mr. Chouteau said, as the last brave passed us. "Itwould hardly be dignified to be trailing in their rear; we will stepinto my brother's garden for a moment and give them time to get out ofour way."

  The massive gates, which, I saw, could be heavily bolted and barred,stood open, and we passed through into a park-like inclosure,beautifully laid out and kept in perfect order, with velvet turf andnoble forest trees, and, in one part, a garden of vegetables andflowers. Set in the midst was a noble stone mansion some sixty feet infront, with wide galleries shaded by a projection of sloping roof,which was pierced by dormer-windows. Several smaller stone buildingswere grouped around it, and from one to the other negroes were passingon various errands, giving a cheerful impression of industry andprosperity. I caught the flutter of a white dress disappearing througha wide door opening from the gallery into the house, and I would haveliked to get a nearer view of the mansion and its inmates. But anexclamation from Mr. Chouteau put all thoughts of petticoats out of mymind.

  "Diable!" he ejaculated, "'tis Black Hawk himself. Now what is themeaning of this, think you?"

  I followed his glance, and saw coming from one of the outbuildings thenoblest specimen of a savage I had ever beheld. Unlike the others, hewas decked in no worn-out finery of the white man, bestowed upon himin exchange for valuable furs, but in the fitting costume of a greatchief, his head-dress of eagle feathers falling back from the top ofhis head almost to his high beaded moccasins. He was far above theusual stature of Indians, and what increased his appearance of heightwas the lofty brow and noble dome, beneath which two piercing eyes andstrong aquiline nose gave additional character to a most strikingface.

  I thought both Mr. Chouteau and Dr. Saugrain looked a little troubledfor a moment, but as the savage stalked majestically toward us, Pierreadvanced to meet him, and with a courteous but commanding wave of hishand stopped him.

  "What has brought my brother from his island on the bosom of the GreatFather of Waters?" he asked, after both had exchanged formalgreetings.

  Black Hawk turned his piercing eyes upon my captain. "It was whisperedamong my braves," he said, "that the great Captain of the Long Kniveshad sent his brother to St. Louis. I bring him a greeting from mypeople."

  Most men would have been abashed by the ceremonial tone and gestureswith which Black Hawk accompanied his speech, but if my captain feltany embarrassment he did not show it. With as ceremonious a manner asthe chief's, he replied at once:

  "The great chief of the Sacs has honored my brother and myself. I willbear your greeting to the Captain of the Long Knives, and it will fillhis heart with happiness to know his red brother has not forgottenhim."

  Black Hawk only grunted approval, but I think he was pleased, for heturned to Mr. Chouteau with a more condescending manner:

  "I will go with my brother to his wigwam. I will eat with him andsleep with him."

  There was nothing for Mr. Chouteau to do but acquiesce, though whenhis back was turned on Black Hawk he made a queer grimace and saidrapidly, in English, which probably Black Hawk did not understand:

  "There will be trouble, my friends; my yard is full of Mandans,Arickarees, and Osages. They love not the Sacs, and Black Hawk is aturbulent fellow if any misunderstanding should arise. You see," hesaid to Captain Clarke, lapsing again into French, "these fellows haveusually started back up the Missouri long before this time, but theyhave all waited this year to see the brother of the great Captain ofthe Long Knives. They planned their exit from Auguste's yard at theexact moment to get a good look at you."

  My captain laughed his hearty laugh.

  "And then they glanced not in my direction even, after all."

  "Do not deceive yourself, mon capitaine; they looked you overthoroughly. Not one of them but would know you again among a thousand.But they timed their exit also with the hope of making an impressionon you, and to that end, as you saw, had donned their finest toggery."

  We had left Auguste Chouteau's yard and were going north again alongthe stone wall, Black Hawk stalking majestically beside CaptainClarke, upon whom he from time to time looked down and bestowed agrunt of approval. Across the street from us now was an open square(La Place Publique, Mr. Chouteau called it), and drawn up around itwere many queer little French _charrettes_, loaded with cord-wood anddrawn by small mustangs. The owners of the charrettes were most ofthem taking a noonday nap under the shade of the trees in La Place,and their mustangs were nodding drowsily in their shafts in sympathywith their owners. This was the same open place we had first come uponafter climbing the bluff, and now, as we came to the corner of LaPlace, and the street leading down to the river (Mr. Chouteau said thestreet was called La Rue Bonhomme), I looked down the steep road andsaw at the foot of it the landing-place, and our boats tied to greatposts, with some of our men in charge.

  I could distinguish on the great flatboat that had followed us,carrying our provisions and our horses, my own mare, Fatima, with herproudly arched neck. Before I had time to think of my manners I hadput my fingers to my lips and uttered through them the shrill whistlewith which I had used to call her. Instantly her head was flungswiftly up, and I saw her start as if t
o come to me, while up thebluff was borne her shrill whinnies, high above the shouts of the men,who had as much as they could do to keep her from breaking halter inher mad plunge for liberty to answer the call she had never disobeyed.

  I was ashamed of my boyish trick, and apologized at once to the twogentlemen and to my captain. But Dr. Saugrain said it was a fortunatereminder: if we cared to send for our horses they could meet us at Mr.Chouteau's, for it would be a long and hot walk from there to hishouse at the extreme southern end of the village. So Yorke wasdespatched for the two horses, and right glad was I at the thought ofbeing on Fatima's back once more, for it was a full two weeks since Ihad mounted her.

  We were on the next block now, skirting another stone wall withoverhanging boughs. Mr. Chouteau said it was his mother's place, andhe would have to insist upon our stopping to pay our respects to her.

  "You know," he said, "madame ma mere is a sort of mother to thevillage, and she would feel herself deeply aggrieved should suchdistinguished guests pass her by."

  We entered another inclosure beautifully embowered in trees, and founda long, low building, not of stone, like her son's house, but built,in the French fashion, of upright logs. On the wide gallery sat MadameChouteau herself, dressed in the style of the habitans who had filledthe streets on our arrival, but in richer materials. Her petticoatwas of black satin, and her short gown, or jacket, was of purplevelvet with wide lace in sleeves and at the neck, and gorgeouslybeaded moccasins on her feet. But it was her head-dress which struckme as the most remarkable part of her costume, and Pierre Chouteauwhispered to us, with a droll grimace:

  "Regardez the head-dress of madame; she expects us, is it not? She isen fete."

  It seemed to be a handkerchief of some thin material, purple in color,and worn like a turban, but entwined with ribbons and flowers until itbecame a gorgeous coronet, and added indescribably to the majesty ofher presence. Already over seventy, with white hair, she was yet aserect as a girl, and her eye was as keen as an eagle's. Even mycaptain was abashed before its glances, which seemed to be taking acomplete inventory of his physical, mental, and moral qualities. Itwas a bad quarter of an hour for me (whom she hardly deigned tonotice), in spite of the good ratafia and delicious _croquecignolles_a small black boy brought out on a tray and placed on a stand at herside, and which she served to us with stately courtesy.

  As for Black Hawk, it was more than he could stand when her severelyquestioning glance fell upon him. Without losing an ace of hisdignified solemnity of demeanor, he turned his back abruptly on theold lady, and stalked slowly and majestically down the path and outthe gate. We hoped we had rid ourselves of him, but we found himwaiting for us when we had made our formal adieus to madame. Justbefore we reached Pierre Chouteau's house he dropped back and walkedbeside Dr. Saugrain and myself. I thought he wished to pay me some ofthe respect he had been showing my captain, and I felt flatteredaccordingly. But I was mistaken; he had something to say to Dr.Saugrain. With many premonitory grunts he said it finally, and it hada startling effect upon the little doctor.

  "Let great medicine-man watch," said Black Hawk, solemnly; "White Wolfwill steal Little Black Eyes. Black Hawk has many ears and many eyes;he has seen White Wolf talking to Red Dog, and he has heard theirwhispers."

  Such was the doctor's agitation that, although we were just enteringMr. Chouteau's great yard (so filled with all manner of buildings,warehouses, shops, and cabins for negroes and Indians that it seemedlike a separate village of itself), he called to my captain and Mr.Chouteau and begged them to excuse him. He felt that he must returnhome at once and assure himself of the safety of his ward, he said,though we need not cut short our visit to Mr. Chouteau, but come tohim later, in time for dinner. But Yorke coming up at that moment withour horses, and riding his own, Captain Clarke bade him dismount andgive his horse to Dr. Saugrain, and insisted upon accompanying himhome. Mr. Chouteau readily excused us, only courteously making acondition that the visit cut short now should be renewed at ourearliest convenience.

  As for me, I was a little sorry not to see more of Mr. Chouteau'splace, for everywhere there were throngs of Indians in picturesquecostume, and on the gallery of the great house a bevy of young maidensevidently awaiting our approach. But Fatima was calling me franticallywith her delighted neighs, and the moment I was on her back, and felther silken muscles stretch and tighten rhythmically beneath me, Icared no more for Mr. Chouteau's interesting place with its Indiansand young maidens, and only longed for a right to leave my companionsand have one good dash with Fatima across country, over fences andditches. I would not have been afraid, in my present mood, to have puther at the high stone walls with which every one in St. Louis seemedto fence in his place, and so wild with delight was Fatima at meetingher master once more I think she would have taken them like a bird.

  But the doctor was more impatient than I, and first taking Black Hawkaside for a minute's low-toned consultation, he made his hasty adieusto our host, and bidding us follow him, he was off. Turning off theRue Royale into the Rue Bonhomme, he went up the hill a long block tothe Rue de l'Eglise, and then, turning to the left, he called back tous:

  "'Tis a straight road from here on, messieurs; shall we race for it?It may mean more than life to a fair lady."

  For answer I laid the reins on Fatima's glossy neck and whispered toher:

  "Get up, Sweetheart!"

  In a flash she had passed the two other horses and her dainty hoofswere flinging the soft dirt of the road in their faces. It was more acountry lane than a village street, with scattered housestree-embowered, and just back of Auguste Chouteau's place, which Irecognized from the rear, was a church, and behind it the crosses ofmany graves, and beside it a priest's house with two black-robedpriests taking a noonday siesta in comfortable chairs on the shady,vine-covered gallery. They awoke with a start as Fatima thundered by,and the two other horses, now well in the rear, pounded after, and Idoubt not they thought it was the beginning of another 1780 affair, sofrightened did they look.

  It did not take Fatima long to cover that mile and a half, and when Isaw that we were approaching the stockade at the end of the road, withonly one house between (which, like the Chouteaus', was set in a greatyard inclosed with high stone walls), I drew rein under awide-spreading oak and waited for the others. And as I waited I beganonce more to wonder what kind of creature Dr. Saugrain's ward couldbe: the acknowledged belle of St. Louis and now in some extreme dangerfrom a white villain and a rascally Indian, for so I had easilyunderstood Black Hawk's figurative language--the White Wolf and theRed Dog.

  I could hear the soft thrumming of a guitar, and a low voice crooningsongs, of which I could now and then catch a word of the creoleFrench. I did not doubt it was the doctor's ward who thus beguiledthe hours with melody, and I grew vastly impatient to meet theloveliest lady in St. Louis and the sweetest of singers, if I couldjudge from the snatches of song that floated to my ears.

  In a minute more the doctor himself rode up, shouting lustily beforehe reached the gate, "Narcisse, Narcisse!" which put a sudden end tothe music. As a black boy ran out in answer to his call, the doctorsprang as nimbly from his horse as I myself could have done, and flungthe boy his reins with a sharp command to take care of the horses. Hestarted swiftly for the house, but stopped suddenly and turned toNarcisse.

  "Where are your mistress and mademoiselle?" he asked, in a tone sosharp and excited the boy was frightened and stammered as he answered:

  "In the house, sir."

  "You are sure?"

  "Yes, sir; 'fore God, sir, they're in the living-room this minute."

  "Thank God!" ejaculated the doctor, and then I saw, to myastonishment, that he was all white and trembling. He recoveredhimself in a moment and turned to us with the suavity of a genialhost:

  "Gentlemen, I fear that rascal Black Hawk has played us a scurvytrick; very likely for reasons of his own he wanted to get rid of me.He has given me a bad quarter of an hour, but otherwise he has onlygiven me the pleasure of wel
coming you a little earlier to Emigre'sRetreat. Let us go find the ladies."

  Before we had time to reply, round the corner of the house saunteredslowly a huge mastiff, and as I caught a glimpse of him my heart sankinto my boots, and there seemed to rise into my throat a tumultuousbeating that was nigh to choking me: not from fear of the dog, thoughthe moment he caught sight of me he stopped, every muscle tense, thehair on his mane erect, his eyes red, glowing, vicious, while heuttered one deep angry growl after another.

  It was not fear of the brute that set my pulses throbbing painfully:it was the truth that flashed upon me for the first time--_Dr.Saugrain's ward was Mademoiselle Pelagie_! At that moment through theopen door came a clear whistle and the sweetest voice I had everheard, calling in ringing tones of command:

  "A moi, Leon!"