Westport had beheld strange scenes, but
a rougher looking troop than ours, with our worn equipments and
broken-down horses, was never seen even there. We passed the well-
remembered tavern, Boone's grocery and old Vogel's dram shop, and
encamped on a meadow beyond. Here we were soon visited by a number
of people who came to purchase our horses and equipage. This matter
disposed of, we hired a wagon and drove on to Kansas Landing. Here
we were again received under the hospitable roof of our old friend
Colonel Chick, and seated on his porch we looked down once more on
the eddies of the Missouri.
Delorier made his appearance in the morning, strangely transformed by
the assistance of a hat, a coat, and a razor. His little log-house
was among the woods not far off. It seemed he had meditated giving a
ball on the occasion of his return, and had consulted Henry Chatillon
as to whether it would do to invite his bourgeois. Henry expressed
his entire conviction that we would not take it amiss, and the
invitation was now proffered, accordingly, Delorier adding as a
special inducement that Antoine Lejeunesse was to play the fiddle.
We told him we would certainly come, but before the evening arrived a
steamboat, which came down from Fort Leavenworth, prevented our being
present at the expected festivities. Delorier was on the rock at the
landing place, waiting to take leave of us.
"Adieu! mes bourgeois; adieu! adieu!" he cried out as the boat pulled
off; "when you go another time to de Rocky Montagnes I will go with
you; yes, I will go!"
He accompanied this patronizing assurance by jumping about swinging
his hat, and grinning from ear to ear. As the boat rounded a distant
point, the last object that met our eyes was Delorier still lifting
his hat and skipping about the rock. We had taken leave of Munroe
and Jim Gurney at Westport, and Henry Chatillon went down in the boat
with us.
The passage to St. Louis occupied eight days, during about a third of
which we were fast aground on sand-bars. We passed the steamer
Amelia crowded with a roaring crew of disbanded volunteers, swearing,
drinking, gambling, and fighting. At length one evening we reached
the crowded levee of St. Louis. Repairing to the Planters' House, we
caused diligent search to be made for our trunks, which after some
time were discovered stowed away in the farthest corner of the
storeroom. In the morning we hardly recognized each other; a frock
of broadcloth had supplanted the frock of buckskin; well-fitted
pantaloons took the place of the Indian leggings, and polished boots
were substituted for the gaudy moccasins.
After we had been several days at St. Louis we heard news of Tete
Rouge.
