Middlebury register. (Middlebury, Vt.) 1886-1937, 1903-11-13
CHAPTER VI.
A FENCING BOUT.

sorely touched in his amour
propre by seeing his suddenly acquired
military rank and title drop away he
did not let it be known to his fellow
citizens. He promptly called upon the
new commander and made acquaint-
ance with Lieutenant Fitzhugh Bever-
ley, who just then was experimenting
the work of cleaning up an old cannon
in the fort and mending some breaks
in the stockade.
Helm formed a great liking for the
big Frenchman, whose breezy freedom
of manner and expansive good humor
struck him favorably from the begin
ming. NJ. Roussillon's ability to speak
English with considerable ease helped
the friendship along, no doubt at all
events their first interview ended with
a hearty show of good fellowship, and
as time passed they became almost in
separable companions during NJ. Rous-
sillon's periods of rest from his trading
excursions among the Indians. They
played cards and brewed hot drinks
over which they told marvellous stories.
the latest one Invariably surprising all
its predecessors.
Helm had an eye to business, and
turned NJ. Roussillon's knowledge OF
the Indians to valuable account, so
that he soon had very pleasant rela
tons with most of the tribes withiE
reach of his agents. This gave a feel
ing of great security to the people OF
Vincennes. They pursued their mar
orint yx-itb
lent results and redoubled those social
gayeties which, even in hut and cabin
under all the adverse conditions of ex-
IRENE frontier life, were dear to the
volatile and genial French tempera-
ment.
Lieutenant Beverley found much to
interest him in the quaint town, but
the piece de resistance was Oncle
Jazon, who proved to be both fascinat-
ing and unmanageable-a hard nut to
crack, yet possessing a kernel abso-
lutely original in flavor. Beverley WIS.,
tied him one evening in his hut-it
might better be called a den-a curl
ously built thing, with walls of vertical
poles set in quadrangular trench dug
in the ground, and rooted with grass.
Inside and out it was plastered with
clay, and the floor of dried mud was as
smooth and hard as concrete paving.
In one end there was wide fireplace
grimy with SCOT, in the other mere
peephole for window; a wooden
bench, bed of skins and two or three
stools were barely visible in the gloCm.
In the doorway Oncle JaZon sat whit
Ting a slender billet of hickory into
ramrod for his long fintlock American
rifle.
Maybe ye know Simon Kenton,"
said the old man, after he and Beverley
had conversed for awhile, seeing that
you are from Kentucky-eh"
Eyes, l do know him well; he's
warm personal friend of mincF said
Beverley with quick interest, for 1t
surprised him that Oncle Jazon should
know anything about Kenton. do you
know him, M. Jazon?"
Oncle Jazon winked conceitedly and
sighted along his rudimentary ramrod
to see If it was straight, then, quicker
ing his lips as If on the point Of whis-
Ting, made an affirmative noise quite
impossible to spell.
"Well, I'm glad you are acquainted
with Kenton," said Beverley. Where
did you and he come together?'
Oncle Jazon chuckled reminiscently
and scratched the skinless, cicatrized
spot where his scalp had once -four
ished
"Oh, several places" he answered.
Eye see tibet hair a-hangin' there on
the WALTZ" He pointed at dry wisp
dangling under peg in log barely
visible by the bad light. "Well, thets
my scalp. He, he, he.' He snickered
joke. Simon Kenton can tell We about
thet little affair. The. Indians thought
was dead, and they took my hair; but
wasn't dead. l was just a-givin' 'em
a possum act. When they was gone
got up from where was a-layin' and
trotted of. My head was sore, and,
ventrebleu, but was mad! He, he.
hev'
All this time he spoke in French,
and the English but poorly paraphras-
es his odd turns Of expression. His
grimaces and grunts cannot even be
limited.
1t was long story, as Beverley re-
ceived it, told scrappily, but with GER
tain rude art. In the end Oncle Jazon
said with unctuous self satisfaction:
Accidents will happen. l got my
chance at tibet Indian who skinned my
head, and jes' took bead on i'm with
my old rifle. can't shoot much, never
could, but happened to hit i'm square
in the lef' eye, what shot at, and it
was hundred yards. Down he tum-
bles, and / runs to i'm and finds my
same old scalp a-hangin' to his belt
Well, I lifted Off his hair with my
knife and united mine from the belt,
and then had both scalps-he. he, he!
Ye ask Simon Kenton when ye see
i'm. He was along at the same time,
and they made i'm run the gauntlet and