time.
The alarm was swelled by Quas-qua-ma, a chief of the
Sacs, a very pacific Indian and friend of the whites, who
came by night to bring warning and consult Clark. In
his search Quas-qua-ma tip-toed from porch to porch.
Frightened habitants peered through the shutters.
"What ees wanted?"
"The Red Head Chief."
But Clark had not arrived.
"We must take this matter into our own hands," said the people. "British and Indians came once from Mackinac. They may again."
"Mackinac? They are at Fort Madison now, murdering our regulars and rangers. How long since they burned our boats and cargoes at Fort Bellevue? Any day they may drop down on St. Louis."
"We must fortify."
"The old bastions may be made available for service."
"The old Spanish garrison tower must be refitted for the women and children."
Such were the universal conclusions. Men went up the river to the islands to bring down logs. Another party set to work to dig a wide, deep ditch for a regular stockade.
When Clark arrived to begin his duties as Territorial Governor he found St. Louis bordering on a state of panic. There was the cloud-shadow of the north. Below, one thousand Indians, Cherokees, Chickasaws, Choctaws, Creeks, and Catawbas on a branch of the Arkansas within three days' journey of Saint Genevieve were crossing the river at Chickasaw Bluffs. Tecumseh's belts of wampum were flying everywhere.
In their best necklaces of bears' claws Clark's ninety chiefs came home, laden with tokens of esteem. Civilised military dress had succeeded the blanket; the wild fierce air was gone.
"We have declared war against Kinchotch [King George]," said the proud chiefs, taking boat to keep their tribes quiet along the west.
A sense of security returned to St. Louis. Would they not act as a barrier to tribes more remote? Th
