Jim and Willie, marching with the main army, became so excited they could scarcely set one foot after the other. In no time at all Clark’s army took possession of the main street and posted guards. Scarcely anyone was in sight because of Clark’s order for the people to remain in their houses. Jim was assigned to guard duty; Willie went with Colonel Clark on his rounds through the town. In a little while Willie came hurrying back to Jim. “Jim,” he cried. “The people have supper ready for us. We’re going to take turns eating. Colonel Clark said he’d send a man to relieve you shortly, and you’re to come with me.” Just at this moment there was a burst of rifle fire, then the sound of raucous laughter. “Our men have begun the attack, Willie,” Jim cried, peering into the black night. “We’ll soon take Vincennes and the fort.” There was, however, no answering fire from the fort. In a few minutes another volley of shots rent the air. “Let’s go nearer to the fort, Jim, and see what’s going on.” Jim shook his head. “I can’t, Willie. I’m on guard here, remember.” After another burst of fire by the Americans, there was a sudden, answering roar from the guns inside the fort. Just at this moment Colonel Clark appeared with a man to relieve Jim. “You boys eat your supper. Report back here when you’ve finished, Jim,” Clark said, and went on to direct the firing which was now continuous. [Illustration: uncaptioned] “Come on, Jim. I know where we’re supposed to go.” Willie led the way to one of the villagers’ homes, where seven or eight soldiers were just finishing their meal. “Come in, boys,” called a rosy-cheeked woman. “There is plenty of food for all of you.” The boys sat down to a bountiful dinner of roast duck, the best meal they had eaten since their buffalo feast many days ago. While they were eating, the woman kept staring at Jim. Finally she said, “Soldier, have I seen you before? There’s something very familiar about your face.” Jim looked blankly at her. “I don’t know, ma’am. I don’t recall ever having seen you.” Still she looked at him. “It’s sure queer. You remind me of someone. I can’t quite figure—say, what’s your name? Mine’s Jeanne Duval.” Jim smiled. “Sometimes I’m called Jim Long-Knife. The Indians gave me that name. But my real name’s Jim Hudson.” “Hudson!” Jeanne exclaimed, her voice shrill with excitement. “And where’s your home?” Jim shook his head. “I haven’t any home now except with Colonel Clark. I used to live in Kentucky.” “Kentucky, you say. I wonder if you—” The roar of cannon from Fort Sackville cut off her words. Jim and Willie jumped up. “Thank you, ma’am, for the good dinner. We can fight better now,” Jim said, as they started out the door. “When the fighting’s over, come back here, Jim. Come back for sure.” “All right,” Jim replied, “if I’m alive.”