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Updated: May 2, 2025
And we spent the night with my old friend, Father Gibault, still the faithful pastor of his flock; cheerful, though the savings of his lifetime had never been repaid by that country to which he had given his allegiance so freely.
Here he halted, re-examined his priming, and, peering cautiously through the underwood, advanced with much greater deliberation and care than heretofore. In descending the gully, Gibault stumbled once or twice, and made one or two crashing bursts through bushes that would have proved quite impervious to most men.
"Ah ye may well ask that, Gibault," said Redhand; "the fact is I've been thinkin' that now we're drawin' near to enemies we must begin to keep better watch at night, and to burn small fires o' dry wood, lest the smoke should tell a tale upon us." "Oh, don't talk bam, old feller," said Waller; "I guess we'll have watchin' enough w'en we gits into the mountains. Let's take it easy here."
"Your Excellency not twenty-six!" cried Father Gibault, in astonishment. "What will you be when you are thirty?" The young Colonel's face clouded. "God knows!" he said. Father Gibault dropped his eyes and turned to me with native tact. "What would you like best to do, my son?" he asked.
By this time Rene had reached Alice's side; but she did not see him; she ran into the blockhouse and climbed up a rude ladder-way; then she appeared on the roof, still accompanied by Rene, and planted the staff in a crack of the slabs, where it stood bravely up, the colors floating free. She looked down and saw M. Roussillon, Father Gibault and Father Beret grouped in the centre of the area.
For half an hour, Gibault went over the ground at a sort of half-walk, half-trot, stopping occasionally to examine the prints of the bear more narrowly when they passed across hard ground that did not take a good impression. At length he came to a deep gully or creek, where the bushes were so dense that he could not see far through them in any direction.
"I should like to learn to speak French," said I, for I had been much irritated at not understanding what was said in the streets. "And so you shall," said Father Gibault; "I myself will teach you. You must come to my house to-day." "And Davy will teach me," said the Colonel. But I was not immediately to take up the study of French. Things began to happen in Kaskaskia.
"Most visitors to this place think so," said McLeod. "The Indians highly approve of it, and deem me quite a marvel of artistic power." "Wot! did you paint it?" inquired Waller. "I did," answered McLeod, with a nod. "Vraiment, de Injuns am right in deir opinion of you," cried Gibault, relighting his pipe, which, in the astonished state of his mind, he had allowed to go out.
Gibault pointed to the footprint of the grisly bear, as he spoke. "It's a bar," remarked Bounce quietly. "Caleb," added Waller, giving the name frequently applied to the grisly bear by western hunters. "I calc'late it's nothin' new to see Caleb's fut in the mud."
Father Gibault, at the head of a small party, had arrived from Kaskaskia, far away on the Mississippi, with the news that France and the American Colonies had made common cause against the English in the great war of which the people of Vincennes neither knew the cause nor cared a straw about the outcome.
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