backwoods, the long-barreled, small-bore rifle.

Before reaching the Mississippi the little flotilla landed, and
Clark led his men northward against the Illinois towns. In one of
them, Kaskaskia, dwelt the British commander of the entire
district up to Detroit. The small garrison and the Creole militia
taken together outnumbered Clark's force, and they were in close
alliance with the Indians roundabout. Clark was anxious to take
the town by surprise and avoid bloodshed, as he believed he could
win over the Creoles to the American side. Marching cautiously by
night and generally hiding by day, he came to the outskirts of
the little village on the evening of July 4, and lay in the woods
near by until after nightfall.

Fortune favored him. That evening the officers of the garrison
had given a great ball to the mirth-loving Creoles, and almost
the entire population of the village had gathered in the fort,
where the dance was held. While the revelry was at its height,
Clark and his tall backwoodsmen, treading silently through the
darkness, came into the town, surprised the sentries, and
surrounded the fort without causing any alarm.

All the British and French capable of bearing arms were gathered
in the fort to take part in or look on at the merrymaking. When
his men were posted Clark walked boldly forward through the open
door, and, leaning against the wall, looked at the dancers as
they whirled around in the light of the flaring torches. For some
moments no one noticed him. Then an Indian who had been lying
with his chin on his hand, looking carefully over the gaunt
figure of the stranger, sprang to his feet, and uttered the wild