Indianapolis Times, Volume 35, Number 282, Indianapolis, Marion County, 5 April 1923 — Page 8

Alice of Old Vincennes By Maurice Thompson

CHAPTER XVII DN the fifth day of February. 1779, Col. George Rogers Clark led an army across the Kaskakta River and camped. This was the first step In his march toward the Wabash. An army! Do not smile. Fewer than two hundred men, it Is true, answered the roll call, when Father Glbault lifted the Cross and blessed them; but every name told ofT by the company sergeant belonged to a hero, and every voice making response struck a full note in the chorus of freedom’s morning song. It was an army, small indeed, but yet an army; even though so rudely equipped that, could we now see it before us, we might wonder of what use It could possibly be In a military way. We should nevertheless hardly ex pect that a hundred and seventy of our best men, even if furnished with the latest and most deadly engines of destruction, could do what those pioneers cheerfully undertook and gloriously accomplished In the savage wilderness which was to be the great central area of the United States of America, We look back with a shiver of awe at the three hundred Spartans for whom Simonides composed his matchless epitaph. They wrought and died gloriously; that was Greek. The one hundred and seventy men, who, led by the backwoodsman. Clark, made conquest" of an empire's area for free, dom In the West, wrought and lived gloriously; that was American. It is well to bear In mind this distinction by which our civilization separates Itself from that of old times. Our heroism has always been of life—our heroes have conquered and lived to ee the effect of conquest. We have fought ell sorts of wars and have never yet felt defeat. Washington, Jackson, Taylor, Grant, all lived to enjoy, after successful war, a triumphant peace. “These Americans.” said a witty Frenchman, "are either enormously lucky, or possessed of miraculous vitality. You rarely kill them In battle, and If you wound them their wounds are never mortal. Their history is but a chain of impossibilities easily accomplished. Their undertakings have been without preparation, their successes in the nature of stupendous accidents.” Such a statement may appear critically sound from a Gallic point of view; but it leaves out the dominant element of American character, namely, heroic efficiency. From the first we have had the courage to undertake, the practical common sense which overcomes the lack of technical training, and the vital force which never flags under the stress of adversity. Clark knew, when he set out on his march to Vincennes, that he was not indulging a visionary Impulse. The

enterprise was one ffhat called for all that manhood could endure, but not more. With the genius of a born leader he measured his task by his means. He knew his own courage and fortitude, and understood the best capacity of his men. He had genihs: that Is, he possessed the secret of extracting from himself and from his followers the last refinement of devotion to purpose. There was a certainty, from first to last, that effort would not flag at any point of the topmost possible strain. The great star of America was no more than a nebulous splendor on the horizon in 1779. It was anew world forming by the law of youth. The men who bore the burdens of Its exacting life were mostly stalwart strip lings who. before the down of adolescence fairly sprouted on their chins, coujd swing the ax, drive a plow, close with a bear or kill an Indian. Clark was not yet 27 when he made his famous campaign. A tall, brawny youth, whose frontier experience had enriched a native character of the best quality, he marched on foo* at the head of his little column, and was first to test every opposing danger. Was there a stream to wade or swim? Clark enthusiastically shouted, “Come on!" and In he plunged. Was there a lack of food? “I’m not hungry,” he cried. "Help yourself, men!” Had some poor soldier lost his blanket? “Mine is In my way,” said Clark “Take It, I'm glad to get rid of It!” His men loved him. and would die rather than fall short of his expecta tlons. The march before them lay over a magnificent plain, mostly prairie, rich as the delta of the Nile, but extremely

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difficult to traverse. The distance, as the route led. was about 170 miles. On account of an open and rainy winter all the basins and flat lands were inundated, often presenting leagues ot water ranging in depth from a few inches to three or four feet. Cold winds blew, sometimes with spits of snow and dashes of sleet, while thin ice formed on the ponds and sluggish streams. By day progress meant wading ankle-deep, knee-deep, breastdeep. with an occasional spurt of swimming. By night the brave fellows had to sleep, if sleep they could, on the cold ground in soaked clothing under water-heavy blankets. They flung the leagues behind them, however, rheerfujly stimulating one another by joke and challenge, defying all the bitterness of weather, all the bitings of hunger, all the toil, danger and deprivation of a trackless and I houseless wilderness, looking only '■ eastward, following their youthful and j intrepid commander to one of the j most valuabje victories gained by American soldiers during the War of j the Revolution. Colonel Clark understood perfectly! the strategic importance of Vincennes j as a post commanding the Wabash, j and as a base of communication with j the many Indian tribes north of the ! Ohio and* east of the Mississippi. Fran j cis Vigo (may his name never fadeh , had brought him a comprehensive and i accurate report of Hamilton's strength and the condition of the fort and gar rison. This information confirmed his that it would be possible not only to capture Vincennes, but Detroit as well. Just seven days after the march began, the little army encamped for a night’s rest at the edge of a wood; and here, Just after nightfall, when the fires were burning merrily and the smell of broiling buffalo steaks burdened the damp air, a wizzened old man suddenly appeared, how or from where nobody had observed. He was dirty and in every way disreputable in appearance, looking like an animated mummy, bearing a long rifle on his shoulder, and walking with the somewhat halting activity of a very cld, yet vivacious and energetic simian. Os course It was Oncle Jazon, “Oncle Jazon sul generis,” as Father Beret had dubbed him. "Well, here I ami” he cried, ap proaching the Are by whirl) Colonel Ciark and some of his officers were cooking supper, “but ye can’t guess in a mile o' who I am to save yer livers and lights.” He danced a few steps, which made the water gush out of his tattered moccasins, then doffed his non-de-script cap and nodded his scalpless head in salutation to the commander. Clark looked inquiringly at him. j while the old fellow grimaced and rubbed his shrunken chin. “I smelt yer fat a fryin' somepln like a mile away, an’ it set my in’ard's to grumblin’ for a snack; so I Jos’ thought 1M drap in on ye an’ chaw wittles \vi’ ye.” "Your looks are decidedly against

you,” remarked the Colonel with a dry smile. He had recognized Oncle Jazon after a little sharp scrutiny. ”1 suppose, however, that we can let you gnaw the bones after we've got off the meat." “Thank 'ee, thank 'ee, plenty good. A feller at’s as hongry as T am kin go through a bone like a feesh through water.” Clark laughed and said: “I don't see any teeth that you have worth mentioning, but your gums may be unusually sharp.” “Ya-a-s. ’bout as sharp as yer wit, Colonel Clark, an’ sharper’n yer eyes, a long snot. Ye don’t know me, do ye? Take ernother squint at me, an' see'f ye kin 'member a good lookin’ man!" “You have somewhat the appearance of an old scamp by the name of Jazon that formerly loafed around with a worthless gun on his shoulder, and used to run from every Indian he saw down yonder In Kentucky." Clark held out his hand and added cordially; “How are you, Jazon, my old friend, and where upon earth have you come from?" Once Jazon pounced upon the hand and gripped it in his own knotted fingers, gazing delightedly upon it Clark’s bronzed and laughing face. “Where’d I come frum? I come frum eVer’wheres. Fust time I 'ever got lost in all my born days. I’ve been a trompin’ ’round In the water seems like a week, crazy as a pizened rat, not a knowin’ north Tom south, ner ! my big toe f’om a turnip! Who’s got I' some tobacker?" Oncle .Tazon's story, when presently he told It, lnterrested Clark deeply. ! in the first place he was glad to hear | that Simon Kenton had once more escaped from the Indians; and the news from Beverley, although bad enough. left room for hope. Frontiersmen always regarded the chances better than even, so long os there was life. Oncle Jazon. furthermore, had much to tell about the situation at Vincennes, the true feeling of the French Inhabitants, the lukewarm friendship of the larger part of the Indians for Hamilton, and indeed, everything that Clark wished to know regarding the possibilities of success in his arduous undertaking. The old man’s advent cheered the whole camp. He soon found acquaintances and friends among the French volunteers from Kaskaskia, with whom he exchanged creole gestures and chatter with a vivacity apparently inexhaustible. He and Kenton had, with wise Judgment, separated on escaping from the Indian camp, Kenton striking out for Kentucky, while Oncle Jazon went toward Kaskaska. The information that Beverley would be shot as soon as he was returned to Hamilton, caused Colonel ! Clark serious worry of mind. Not ! only the fact that Beverley, who had been a charming friend and a most gallant officer, was now in such im mlnefit danger, but the Impression (given by Oncle Jazon’s account) that he had broken ills parole, was deeply painful to the brave and scrupulously ; honorable commander. Still, friendship rose above regret, and Clark re ! solved to push his little column forward all the more rapidly, hoping to arrive in time to prevent the impend | itig execution. Next morning the march was iesumed at the break of dawn; but a swollen stream caused some hours of delay, during which Beverley himself j arrived from the rear, a haggard and weirdy unkempt apparition. He had be-m f, >r three days following hard

DOINGS OF THE DUFFS—

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TILLsAi UAiIS (JUNE 1’ UiLLY Lii—

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on the army’s track, which he came to far westward. Oncle Jazon saw hfm first in the dlstt-nce, and his old, but educated eyes made no mistake. “Yander’s that youngster Beverley,” he exclaimed. “Es it ain’t I'm a squaw.'” 1 - Nor did he parley further on the subject; but set off at a rickety trot to meet and assist the fagged and excited young man. Ciark had given Oncle Jazon his flask, which oontained a few gills of

OUT OUR WAY—By WILLIAMS

THE OLD HOME TOWN—By STANLEY

whisky. This was the first thing of sered to Beverley, who wisely took but a swallow. Oncle Jazon was so elated that he waved his cap on high, and unconsciously falling into French, yelled In a piercing voice: “Vive Zhorzh Vasinton! Vive la banniere d' Alice Roussillon!” Seeing Beverley reminded him of Alice and the flag. As for Beverley, the sentiment braced him, and the beloved name brimmed his heart with sweetness.

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Clark went to meet them as they came In. He hugged the gaunt lieutenant with genuine fervor of joy, while Oriole Jazon ran around them making a series of grotesque capers. The whole command, hearing Oncle .Tazon’s patriotic words, set up a wild shouting on the spur of a general impression that Beverley came as a messenger bearing glorious news from Washington’s army in the East. It was a great relief to Clark when tie found out that his favorite Lieu-

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tenant had not broken hie parole; but had instead boldly resurrendered himself. declaring the obligation no longer binding, and notifying Hamilton of his intention to go away with the purpose of returning and destroying him and his command. Clark laughed heartily when this explanation brought out Boverlov’s tender interest in Alice; but. he sympathized cordially; for he himself knew what love is. Although Beverley was half starved and still suffering from the k.'cks and

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS—By BLOSSER

OUR BOARDING HOUSE—By AHERN

blows given him by Long-Hair and his warriors, his exhausting run on the trail of Clark and his band had not worked him serious harm. All of the officers and men did their utmost to serve him. He wag feasted without stint and furnished! with everything that the scant supply of clothing on the pack horses cotJd afford for his comfort. He promptly asked for an assignment to duty ij| his company end took his place ivith such high enthusiasm that his ro-

THURSDAY. APRIIj 5, 1923

—By ALLMAN

-By AL POSEN,

girded him with admiring Wonder. Nona of them save Clark and Oncle Jazon suspected that love for a fkir-l haired girl yonder in Vincennes was the secret of his amazing zeal and intrepidity. (To Be Continued.) Cars In use today would make two unbroken lines on the entire mileage of Federal aid highway*.