The Fourth of July is generally a hot day. The Fourth of July, 1778, was a particularly hot day around the town of Kaskaskia, as it basked in the sun on the banks of two rivers, the tin roofs of its quaint old houses shining like mirrors. Kaskaskia, a hundred years ago, was like Quebec to-day, a quaint, rambling town of steep, narrow streets, nominally English, actually French in language and sentiment. Founded two years before Philadelphia, it was at that time the emporium of Indian trade, and far ahead of the infant St. Louis, eighty miles further up.

What changes a century makes! To-day Kaskaskia is a decayed village, and St. Louis a city of palaces.

On a rounded bluff opposite the town stood a handsome stone fort, with rows of bright brass guns trained on the place, and that so closely as to obviate the necessity of walls around the houses.

Kaskaskia was safe from the Indians for two reasons.

First, the fort frightened the thievish ones; second, the place was full of trappers and traders who had intermarried with every tribe in the West. This last point is the grand secret of the control which the French have always exercised over the Indians. At the present day it turns into friends and allies thousands of the same race in the Hudson’s Bay Territories, that are relentless foes to white men in the American Territories.

[52]

In Kaskaskia, on that sultry Fourth, a hundred years ago, trader and Indian could be seen side by side in every shady place, smoking over bargains in furs like old friends.

The blazing sun at last dipped behind the western prairies, and a gentle breeze came sighing up the Mississippi, when Monsieur Rocheblave, the French-English Governor, who was sitting by the open window of the government house at the top of the hill, suddenly spoke to his wife.

“Coralie, ma chere, I do believe I see Mademoiselle Roland, and that she is coming hither. Yes, it is she indeed.”

Madame Rocheblave, who was lying on a sofa fanning herself languidly, bleated out, with a whining, querulous tone:

“Rubie? What can the girl want? I declare I wish my cousin Roland had done any thing in the world rather than leave that wild creature in the way he did, half the time for me to take care of, the other half to that ugly Indian they call the Grand Door of the Wabash. I wish he’d keep her altogether. She has lost all the manner of society, and tells the truth so quick and plain that she lacerates my feelings.”

M. Rocheblave had risen to look out of the window better.

“For all that, my angel,” he said, soothingly, “we must remember that mademoiselle your cousin is a very important person. She represents the union between us and the tribes, a link carefully forged by her illustrious father, at his own cost, which must be maintained. Therefore, Coralie, be polite to mademoiselle, who is about to become our guest. It is a great privilege you and I enjoy, to entertain a princess.”

“A princess!” said madame, ill-temperedly. “I’ve had enough of these wild princesses. What does she come for? It’s not time for her visit for two months yet.”

“I suppose that the visit portends something to us,” said the Governor. “At all events, I shall not be wanting in respect to our illustrious guest.”

And the Governor hastily arranged his costume, and left the room, to greet the approaching personage.

At the principal gate of the “palace,” as it was styled, he paused, to watch the progress of a cavalcade, coming up the street.

At the head rode, on a very handsome dappled mustang, our[53] little friend Ruby Roland, dressed in gorgeous velvets and brocades, heavily laced with gold, and loaded with jewelry. All the finery that the wealth of a tribe could lavish on her, was displayed on her trim figure, and she rode her spirited little horse like a man, with all a man’s ease and dexterity.

She carried no arms, but this was compensated for by her escort, consisting of twelve grim-looking chiefs, armed to the teeth.

The Governor bowed very low to this strangely-situated girl, at once perfect lady and Indian princess, and himself assisted her to dismount from her horse, while a score of obedient servants came running out to perform the same service to ............