His look did not relax. "Nor 'Mister' Jefferson, if you please, sir. I am Thomas Jefferson, the servant of the people and a plain citizen of the Republic,--no more, no less."

Knowing the greatness of the man behind this small foible, I bowed acquiescence to the statement, and he, smiling gravely in response, added with cordiality: "As I have intimated, the Executive will not interfere with any proper plans which General Wilkinson may deem expedient. Yet I will say that, in the event he carries out the contemplated expedition to our Western boundaries, I should be pleased to hear of such a well-qualified a.s.sistant as yourself being included in the party as a volunteer."

I covered my disappointment with the best smile I could muster: "In that event, sir, I fear that I must repress my adventurous longings."

I bowed and stepped aside for him to pa.s.s on. He mounted with easy agility, but checked his over-willing horse for a parting remark: "Sir, I am pleased to have met you. I shall be more pleased to meet you at my table this evening."

Before I could recover from my astonishment he had touched his hat civilly, and was cantering away across country.

CHAPTER III

AT THE PRESIDENT'S HOUSE

It will not be thought strange that my invitation to dine with the President put me in high conceit with myself, and this notwithstanding such information as I had already acquired as to the looseness and informality of the White House etiquette since the retirement of President Adams. Although Mr. Jefferson's custom was to invite many kinds of persons to his elegant little dinners, the guests were generally selected for their compatibility.

On the other hand, my elation was tempered by the fact that another result of my chance meeting with His Excellency in the woods had been a sharp dashing of the hopes which had brought me to Washington. I refer to the matter of General Wilkinson's contemplated expedition to the West. Having reasons of my own for not wishing to apply to the Commander-in-Chief for the leadership of the expedition, I had come on to the Federal City in the fond hope of receiving the appointment from the Secretary of War. Fate had given me the opportunity of making my modest request direct to the source of all Federal patronage, with the results which have been stated.

It was therefore without undue elation that, dressed in my small-clothes and new coat, my best shirt-frill, and highest pudding cravat, I jogged north along the redoubtable avenue which, only three days before, had seen me ride south in my buckskins. My horse, feeling his oats after his days in stall, fretted at the sober pace I set him. A word or even a touch would have put him into full gallop, for all the depth of the mire. Yet, even had I not been in so grave a frame of mind, I had my silk stockings and fine buckled shoes to consider.

In due time we came to the gra.s.sy common about the Presidential mansion, and entered the iron gate in the high rock wall built by Mr. Jefferson to enclose the n.o.ble building. On dismounting, my first surprise of the evening was that I should be ushered in by a white attendant. I had expected that Mr. Jefferson would be served by slaves from his great plantation at Monticello. Later I learned that he preferred to hire his entire corps of servants, some thirty or more, all of whom were white.

Upon giving my name as one of the dinner guests, I was shown into a pleasant, s.p.a.cious room, which, from a remark dropped by the attendant, I understood to be the President's cabinet. My first glance took in a view of walls lined with well-filled bookcases, globes, charts, and maps; my second, a brighter picture of window recesses filled with roses and geraniums, in the midst of which was embowered a cage with a mocking-bird; my third glance followed down the long table in the centre of the room to where the tall, slender figure of my ill.u.s.trious host was rising in courteous greeting.

My second surprise of the evening lay in my recognition of the handsome, dashing little man who sat regarding me, alert and keen-eyed, from the far corner of the table. I had seen that sanguine, high-spirited face before, many a weary mile west of Washington.

The President met my advance with a benignant smile: "You are in very good season, Dr. Robinson. I am pleased that you did not forget my hasty invitation."

"One does not easily forget such an honor from Thomas Jefferson," I responded.

"Tut, tut!" he reproved, and turning to his companion, who rose with graceful ease and quickness, said, "Colonel Burr, I wish to introduce Dr. Robinson--Dr. John H. Robinson of New Orleans--"

"Now of St. Louis," I corrected.

"Of St. Louis."

Had I been the President himself, Colonel Burr's bow could not have been more considerate or his smile more winning.

"If I missed the pleasure of an introduction to Dr. Robinson in New Orleans, it was not due to lack of desire on my part," he said.

"Governor Claiborne and Mr. Daniel Clark alike spoke highly of your merits, sir."

"That Colonel Burr should remember such chance remarks concerning an unknown young doctor is indeed a compliment," I replied. "You were pointed out to me, sir, at the dinner given you by Governor Claiborne.

An urgent professional call compelled me to leave before I could obtain an introduction. But my misfortune in missing the honor of meeting you, alike in New Orleans and upon your subsequent visit to St. Louis, will now, I trust, be offset by the pleasure of your company as a fellow guest."

"I had in mind that you would count yourself among the Western well-wishers of Colonel Burr," remarked Mr. Jefferson, eying me as I thought with a certain sharpness. "My idea for this dinner was a party whose members would share a common interest in Louisiana affairs."

As he finished speaking, the President stepped past me toward the door by which I had entered. Colonel Burr promptly took his place, still smiling suavely, but keen-eyed as a hawk.

"Sir," he asked, in a low and eager voice, "may I indeed count you among my Western friends?"

It may have been the magnetism of the man, or possibly only the suddenness of the question, but I found myself answering without thought, "We are all your well-wishers, sir."

He smiled and gave me a significant glance which I did not half understand and liked still less. The words were on my tongue's tip to correct his evident misconception of my hasty answer, when he, in turn, stepped past me, bowing and smiling. I turned about, and received my third surprise. The President and Mr. Burr were exchanging bows with my Spanish don of the mired carriage!

Great as was my astonishment, I intercepted and unconsciously made mental note of the look of understanding which as I turned was pa.s.sing between the don and Colonel Burr.

The former flashed a glance of inquiry from myself to the President, who met it with his ungraceful but ready courtesy--"Don Pedro Vallois, Dr.

John H. Robinson."

"And my good friend, senor!" added Mr. Burr, with a warmth of tone that astonished me.

Senor Vallois responded to my bow with one as punctiliously polite as it was haughty. There was no sign of recognition in his cold eyes. The opportunity was too tempting to forgo.

"I trust, senor, that you were not again stalled, and have not been required to inhabit the centre of the avenue these past three days," I remarked.

At this he gazed at me with more interest. No doubt my voice jogged his memory, for in a moment his eye kindled, and he grasped my hand with the heartiness of an Englishman.

"_Por Dios!_ It is our _caballero_ of the mire!"

"The same, senor. It is good fortune which brings us together as guests of His Excellency the President," I replied, thinking to divert the conversation. It was in vain.

"How?--What is this, senor? You know Dr. Robinson?" questioned Colonel Burr, his eyes sparkling not altogether pleasantly, and his lips tightening beneath their smile.

Senor Vallois waved his hand for attention and proceeded, with much detail and elaboration, to recount my simple feat with the fence rails.

In the midst entered the Honorable Henry Dearborn, the Secretary of War, to whom I had been introduced on the day of my arrival by Senator Adair.

His curt nod of recognition forestalled an introduction by Mr.

Jefferson, and the senor's account proceeded to the end without interruption.

Mr. Jefferson and Colonel Burr were alike pleased to give the senor close attention. The former was first to make his comment,--"A friendly deed, and one seldom met with nowadays."

Colonel Burr was not content so to spare my modesty.

"Friendly!" he exclaimed, "friendly! Gallant is the word, sir! We read of Raleigh spreading his cloak for a queen. Here is an American gentleman who plunges into the mire to pry out a lady's coach, an act by far the more gallant!" He faced about to give me a knowing smile. "You saw the lady beckoning from the carriage window, and, of course, beauty in distress--"

"_Santisima Virgen!_ My niece beckon to a stranger in the highway!"

protested Senor Vallois, in a tone that would have compelled a far duller man than Colonel Burr to realize his mistake.

"Your pardon, senor!" he hastened to explain. "A mere figure of speech.

I infer that the lady looked out, and Dr. Robinson, chancing to see her--"

"No, no, Colonel!" I broke in. "I cannot lay claim to the gallantry with which you would credit me. It was the needless lashing of the horses which prompted me to the action."

"The more credit to your kindliness, sir," remarked Mr. Jefferson, with a heartiness which added to my embarra.s.sment. The nod of a.s.sent and warm glance of General Dearborn in part consoled me for the stress of the situation.

Whether the grave look of Senor Vallois indicated approval or disapproval of my disclaimer of gallantry I could not tell. But Colonel Burr was open in his protest.