Monsieur Vigo shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. He loved les
Americains. What would Monsieur le Colonel do now?
Monsieur le Colonel was grave, but this was his usual manner. He did not
tear his hair, but the ways of the Long Knives were past understanding.
He asked many questions. How was it with the garrison at Vincennes?
Monsieur Vigo was exact, as a business man should be. They were now
reduced to eighty men, and five hundred savages had gone out to ravage.
There was no chance, then, of Hamilton moving at present? Monsieur Vigo
threw up his hands. Never had he made such a trip, and he had been
forced to come back by a northern route. The Wabash was as the Great
Lakes, and the forests grew out of the water. A fox could not go to
Vincennes in this weather. A fish? Monsieur Vigo laughed heartily.
Yes, a fish might.
"Then," said Colonel Clark, "we will be fish."
Monsieur Vigo stared, and passed his hand from his forehead backwards
over his long hair. I leaned forward in my corner by the hickory fire.
"Then we will be fish," said Colonel Clark. "Better that than food for
the crows. For, if we stay here, we shall be caught like bears in a
trap, and Kentucky will be at Hamilton's mercy."
"Sacre'!" exclaimed Monsieur Vigo, "you are mad, mon ami. I know what
this country is, and you cannot get to Vincennes.
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