"Naturally," grinned Peria.
They looked at one another. And thereafter the two, as was well noted, conversed often and more intimately together as the journey progressed.
"Now it's an odd thing about his coat," volunteered the stranger later in that same day. "He always keeps it on--that ragged old uniform. Was it a uniform, do you believe? Can't the Governor of the new Territory wear a coat that shows his own quality? This one's a dozen years old, you might say."
"He always wears it on the trail," said Peria. "At home he watches it as if it held some treasure."
"Treasure?" The shifty eyes of the new man flashed in sudden interest. "What treasure? Papers, perhaps--bills--documents--money? His pocket bulges at the side. Something there--yes, eh?"
"Hush!" said Peria. "You do not know that man, the Governor. He has the eye of a hawk, the ear of a fox--you can keep nothing from him. He fears nothing in the world, and in his moods--you'd best leave him alone. Don't let him suspect, or----" And Peria shook his head.
The cavalcade was well out into the wilderness east of the Mississippi on that afternoon of October 8, in the year 1809. Stopping at the wayside taverns which now and then were found, they had progressed perhaps a hundred miles to the eastward. The day was drawing toward its close when Peria rode up and announced that one or two of the horses had strayed from the trail.
"I have told you to be more careful, Peria," expostulated Governor Lewis. "There are articles on the packhorse which I need at night. Who is this new man that is so careless? Why do you not keep the horses up? Go, then, and get them. Major Neely, would you be so kind as to join the men and assure them of bringing on the horses?"
"And what of you, Governor?"
"I shall go on ahead, if you please. Is there no house near by? You know the trail. Perhaps we can get lodgings not far on."
"The first white man's house beyond here," answered Neely, "belongs to an old man named Grinder. 'Tis no more than a few miles ahead. Suppose we join you there?"
"Agreed," said Lewis, and setting spurs to his horse, he left them.
It was late in the evening when at length Meriwether Lewis reined up in front of the somewhat unattractive Grinder homestead cabin, squatted down alongside the Natchez Trace; a place where sometimes hospitality of a sort was dispensed. It was an ordinary double cabin that he saw, two cob-house apartments with a covered space between such as might have been found anywhere for hundreds of miles on either side of the Alleghanies at that time. At his call there appeared a woman--Mrs. Grinder, she announced herself.