"I asked you when I was a boy to send me, but you could not then."
"No, but instead I sent yonder maundering Michaux. He, Ledyard, and all the others failed me. They never saw the great vision. There it lies, unknown, tremendous--no man knows what--that new country. I have had to hide from the people of this republic this secret purpose which you and I have had of exploring the vast Western country. I have picked you as the one man fitted for that work. I do not make mistakes. You are a born woodsman and traveler--you are ready to my hand as the instrument for this magnificent adventure. I cannot well spare you now--but yes, you must go!"
They stood there, two men who made our great adventure for us--vision-seers, vision-owned, gazing each into the other's eyes.
"Send me now, Mr. Jefferson!" repeated Meriwether Lewis. "Send me now. I will mend to usefulness again. I will work for you all my life, if need be--and I want my name clear with you."
The old man laid a kindly hand upon his shoulder.
"I must yield you to your destiny," said he. "It will be a great one." He turned aside, a hand to his lip as he paced uncertainly. "But I still am wondering what our friends are doing yonder in France," said he. "That is the question. Livingston, Monroe, and the others--what are they doing with Napoleon Bonaparte? The news from France--but stay," he added. "Wait! I had forgotten. Come, we shall see about it!"
With the sudden enthusiasm of a boy he caught his young aide by the arm. They passed down the hall, out by the rear entrance and across the White House grounds to the brick stables which then stood at the rear.
Mr. Jefferson paid no attention to the sleek animals there which looked in greeting toward him. Instead, he passed in front of the series of stalls, and without excuse or explanation hurriedly began to climb the steep ladder which led to the floor above.
They stood at length in the upper apartment of the stable buildings. It was not a mow or feed loft, but rather a bird loft, devoted to the use of many pigeons. All about the eaves were arranged many boxes--nesting places, apparently, although none of the birds entered the long room, which seemed free of any occupancy.
Mr. Jefferson stood for a moment, eagerly scanning the rear of the tier of boxes. An exclamation broke from him. He hurried forward with a sudden gesture to a little flag which stood up, like the tilt of a fisherman on the ice, at the side of the box to which he pointed.