"News!" The voluble Frenchman threw up his hands. "Nothing but news!

The entire world is changed since you left. I could not tell you in a month. The Burr duel----"

"Yes, we did not know of it for two years," said William Clark. "We have just heard about it, up river."

"The killing of Mr. Hamilton ended the career of Colonel Burr," said Chouteau. "But for that we might have different times here in Mississippi. He had many friends. But you have heard the last news regarding him?"

It was the dark eye of Meriwether Lewis which now compelled his attention.

"No? Well, he came out here through this country once more. He was arrested last summer, on the Natchez Trace, and carried off to Washington. The charge is treason against his government. The country is full of it--his trial is to be at Richmond. Even now it may be going on."

He did not notice the sudden change in Meriwether Lewis's face.

"And all the world is swimming in blood across the sea," went on their garrulous informant. "Napoleon and Great Britain are at war again.

Were it not so, one or the other of them would be at the gates of New Orleans, that is sure. This country is still discontented. There was much in the plan of Colonel Burr to separate this valley into a country of its own, independent--to force a secession from the republic, even though by war on the flag. Indeed, he was prepared for that; but now his conspiracy is done. Perhaps, however, you do not hold with the theory of Colonel Burr?"

"Hold with the theory of Colonel Burr, sir?" exclaimed the deep voice of Meriwether Lewis. "Hold with it? This is the first time I have known what it was. It was treason! If he had any join him, that was in treason! He sought to disrupt this country? Agree with him? What is this you tell me? I had never dreamed such a thing as possible of him!"

"He had many friends," went on Chouteau; "very many friends. They are scattered even now all up and down this country--men who will not give up their cause. All those men needed was a leader."

"But, M. Chouteau," rejoined Lewis, "I do not understand--I cannot!

What Colonel Burr attempted was an actual treason to this republic. I find it difficult to believe that!"

Chouteau shrugged his shoulders.

"There may be two names for it," he said.

"And every one asked to join the cause was asked to join in treason to his country. Is it not so?" Lewis went on.

"There may be two names for it," smiled the other, still shrugging.

"He was my friend," said Meriwether Lewis. "I trusted him!"

"Always, I repeat, there are two names for treason. But what puzzles me is this," Chouteau continued. "What halted the cause of Colonel Burr here in the West? He seemed to be upon the point of success. His organization was complete--his men were in New Orleans--he had great lands purchased as a rendezvous below. He had understandings with foreign powers, that is sure. Well, then, here is Colonel Burr at St.

Louis, all his plans arranged. He is ready to march, to commence his campaign, to form this valley into a great kingdom, with Mexico as part of it. He was a man able to make plans, believe me. But of all this there comes--nothing! Why? At the last point something failed--no one knew what. He waited for something--no one knew what. Something lacked--no one can tell what. And all the time--this is most curious to me--I learned it through others--Colonel Burr was eager to hear something of the expedition of Lewis and Clark into the West. Why? No one knows! _Does_ no one know?"

The captain did not speak, and Chouteau presently went on.

"Why did Colonel Burr hesitate, why did he give up his plans here--why, indeed, did he fail? You ask me why these things were? I say, it was because of you--_messieurs_, you two young men, with your Lewis and Clark Expedition! It was _you_ who broke the Burr Conspiracy--for so they call it in these days. _Messieurs_, that is your news!"

CHAPTER XIV

THE GUESTS OF A NATION

"Attention, men!"

The company of Volunteers for the Discovery of the West fell into line in front of the stone fortress of old St. Louis. A motley crew they looked in their half-savage garb. They were veterans, fit for any difficult undertaking in the wilderness. Shoulder to shoulder they had labored in the great enterprise. Now they were to disband.

Their leaders had laid aside the costume of the frontier and a.s.sumed the uniforms of officers in the army of the United States. Fresh from his barber and his tailor, Captain Lewis stood, tall, clean-limbed, immaculate, facing his men. His beard was gone, his face showed paler where it had been reaped. His hair, grown quite long, and done now in formal cue, hung low upon his shoulders. In every line a gentleman, an officer, and a thoroughbred, he no longer bore any trace of the wilderness. Love, confidence, admiration--these things showed in the faces of his men as their eyes turned to him.

"Men," said he, "you are to be mustered out today. There will be given to each of you a certificate of service in this expedition. It will ent.i.tle you to three hundred and twenty acres of land, to be selected where you like west of the Mississippi River. You will have double pay in gold as well; but it is not only in this way that we seek to show appreciation of your services.

"We have concluded a journey of considerable length and importance.

Between you and your officers there have been such relations as only could have made successful a service so extraordinary as ours has been. In our reports to our own superior officers we shall have no words save those of praise for any of you. Our expedition has succeeded. To that success you have all contributed. Your officers thank you.

"Captain Clark will give you your last command, men. As I say farewell to you, I trust I may not be taken to mean that I separate myself from you in my thoughts or memories. If I can ever be of service to any of you, you will call upon me freely."

He turned and stepped aside. His place was taken by his a.s.sociate, William Clark, likewise a soldier, an officer, properly attired, and all the figure of a proper man. Clark's voice rang sharp and clear.

"Attention! Aim--fire! Break ranks--march!"

The last volley of the gallant little company was fired. The last order had been given and received. With a sweep of his drawn sword, Captain Clark dismissed them. The expedition was done.

So now they went their way, most of them into oblivion, great though their services had been. For their officers much more remained to do.

The progress to Washington was a triumph. Everywhere their admiring countrymen were excited over their marvelous journey. They were feted and honored at every turn. The country was ringing with their praises from the Mississippi to the Atlantic as the news spread eastward just ahead of them.

When at last they finished their adieux to the kindly folk of St.

Louis, who scarce would let them go, they took boat across the river to the old Kaskaskia trail, and crossed the Illinois country by horse to the Falls of the Ohio, where the family of William Clark awaited him. Here was much holiday, be sure; but not even here did they pause long, for they must be on their way to meet their chief at Washington.

Their little cavalcade, growing larger now, pa.s.sed on across Kentucky, over the gap in the c.u.mberlands, down into the country of the Virginia gentry. Here again they were feted and dined and wined so long as they would tarry. It was specially difficult for them to leave Colonel Hanc.o.c.k, at Fincastle. Here they must pause and tell how they had named certain rivers in the West--the one for Maria Woods; another for Judith Hanc.o.c.k--the Maria's and Judith Rivers of our maps today.

Here William Clark delayed yet a time. He found in the charms of the fair Judith herself somewhat to give him pause. Soon he was to take her as his bride down the Ohio to yonder town of St. Louis, for whose fame he had done so much, and was to do so much more.

Toward none of the fair maids who now flocked about them could Meriwether Lewis be more than smiling gallant, though rumors ran that either he or William Clark might well-nigh take his pick. He was alike to all of them in his courtesy.

One thought of eager and unalloyed joy rested with him. He was soon to see his mother. In time he rode down from the hilltops of old Albemarle to the point beyond the Ivy Depot where rose the gentle eminence of Locust Hill, the plantation of the Lewis family.

Always in the afternoon, in all weathers, his mother sat looking down the long lane to the gate, as if she expected that one day a certain figure would appear. Sometimes, old as she was, she dozed and dreamed--just now she had done so. She awoke, and saw standing before her, as if pictured in her dream, the form of her son, in bodily presence, although at first she did not accept him as such.

"My son!" said she at length, half as much in terror as in joy.

"Merne!"

He stooped down and took her grayed head in his hands as she looked up at him. She recalled other times when he had come from the forest, from the wilderness, bearing trophies in his hands. He bore now trophies greater, perhaps, than any man of his age ever had brought home with him. What Washington had defended was not so great as that which Lewis won. It required them both to make an America for us haggling and unworthy followers.

"My son!" was all she could say. "They told me that you never would come back, that you were dead. I thought the wilderness had claimed you at last, Merne!"

"I told you I should come back to you safe, mother. There was no danger at any time. From St. Louis I have come as fast as any messenger could have come. Next I must go to see Mr. Jefferson at Washington--then, back home again to talk with you, for long, long hours."

"And what have you found?"

"More than I can tell you in a year! We found the mysterious river, the Columbia--found where it runs into the ocean, where it starts in the mountains. We found the head of the Missouri--the Ohio is but a creek beside it. We crossed plains and mountains more wonderful than any we have ever dreamed of. We saw the most wonderful land in all the world, mother--and we made it ours!"

"And you did that? Merne, was _that_ why the wilderness called to you?

My boy has done all that? Your country will reward you. I should not complain of all these years of absence. You are happy now, are you not?"