"It is not a question of my personal convenience, Major," said Meriwether Lewis. "Time presses for me. I must go on!"
"At least you shall not go alone," said Major Neely. "You should have some escort. Doubtless you have important papers?"
Meriwether Lewis nodded.
"My servant has arranged everything, I fancy. Can you get an extra man or two? The Natchez Trace is none too safe."
That military road, as they both knew, was indeed no more than a horse path cut through the trackless forest which lay across the States of Mississippi, Tennessee and Kentucky. Its reputation was not good. Many a trader passing north from New Orleans with coin, many a settler passing west with packhorses and household effects, had disappeared on this wilderness road, and left no sign. It was customary for parties of any consequence to ride in companies of some force.
It was a considerable cavalcade, therefore, which presently set forth from Chickasaw Bluffs on the long ride eastward to cross the Alleghanies, which meant some days or weeks spent in the saddle. Apprehension sat upon all, even as they started out. Their eyes rested upon the wasted form of their leader, the delirium of whose fever seemed still to hold him. He muttered to himself as he rode, resented the near approach of any traveling companion, demanded to be alone. They looked at him in silence.
"He talks to himself all the time," said one of the party--a new man, hired by Neely at the army post. He rode with Peria now; and none but Peria knew that he had come from the long barge which had clung to the Governor's craft all the way down the river--and which, unknown to Lewis himself, had tied up and waited at Chickasaw Bluffs. He was a stranger to Neely and to all the others, but seemed ready enough to take pay for service along the Trace, declaring that he himself was intending to go that way. He was a man well dressed, apparently of education and of some means. He rode armed.
"What is wrong with the Governor, think you?" inquired this man once more of Peria, Lewis's servant.
"It is his way," shrugged Peria. "We leave him alone. His hand is heavy when he is angry."
"He rides always with his rifle across his saddle?"
"Always, on the trail."
"Loaded, I presume--and his pistols?"
"You may well suppose that," said Peria.
"Oh, well," said the new member of the party, "'tis just as well to be safe. I lifted his saddlebags and the desk, or trunk, whatever you call it, that is on the pack horse yonder. Heavy, eh?"