Part 13

“It’s been not such a bad winter, after all, even if we did have only six clear days in six months,” laughed George Shannon. “Now we’ll soon be rid of our rheumatism.”

Spring had arrived; for although the weather continued wet and raw, wild fowl were feeding in the ponds, the gooseberry and honeysuckle were leaving forth in the parks, and the frogs were croaking in the marshes. Many Indians were met; they were gathering along the river, to wait for the salmon to run up from the sea.

“Next full moon,” said the Indians. “No salmon till next full moon.”

“The second of May, that is,” figured Captain Lewis. “Well, we can’t wait. We’ll have to depend on our guns; for if we wait, winter will overtake us on the Missouri. Where there’s nothing to shoot, we can live for a time on dogs and horses.”

The Indians seemed poor and starving. Captain Clark was told of a large river emptying from the south: the Multnomah, which is the Willamette. He ascended it a short distance, and there found some of the Neer-cho-ki-oo tribe. They refused to sell him any wappatoo roots. But he tossed a match into a fire; it blazed and frightened them. He placed a magnet on his compass, and whirled the compass needle ’round and ’round. The women and children crawled under the bed-covers, and the men piled wappatoo roots at his feet. The captain liked to do this sort of thing.

He returned from among the Multnomahs with roots and five dogs.

The Indians were not all friendly, especially those new tribes who had traveled to await the salmon. The Clah-clel-lahs threw stones at the canoes, and stole things; John Shields had to defend himself with his hunting-knife. The Wah-clel-lahs stole the little black Assiniboine dog. Captain Lewis, who was very fond of the little dog, immediately sent Sergeant Pryor, Drouillard and Hugh McNeal to get it even if they had to shoot the thieves. The thieves ran off and left the dog. And in the village of the Skilloots Captain Lewis knocked down an Indian who was carrying off a valuable piece of iron.

Among the Skilloots, here, quite a number of articles were lost; so that Captain Lewis made a speech, to say that he and his men were not afraid and were able to burn the village if necessary to stop the thieving.

“Yessuh! Dese hyah Galloots’d better watch out,” agreed York. “Marse Merne an’ Marse Will are offishurs of the ’Nited States ahmy.”

However, from the Skilloots ten horses were purchased with blankets and Captain Clark’s artillery coat and two kettles, and two more were borrowed. William Bratton was too ill to walk, and rode one of the horses. Nine others were loaded with the baggage, to take it around the rapids. One horse was stolen, and Captain Clark rode the twelfth up to the village of the E-nee-shurs.

Three of the canoes were broken up for fuel. The captains hoped soon to travel altogether by horses; canoe work, against the current, was slow, hard work.

“An amazin’ disagrayable people,” commented Sergeant Pat, on the Skilloots. “But Twisted-hair and his Pierced Noses’ll be gintlemen.”

The E-nee-shurs were no better in manners and honesty. The horse Chaboneau was leading ran away, and spilled his pack; an E-nee-shur made off with a fine robe, and before it was returned Captain Lewis had to utter more threats.

All in all, the trip up-river was very vexing, until, finally having collected enough horses for the baggage, so as to do without any canoes, the party arrived on April 27 at the Walla Walla village where lived Chief Yellept who last October had wanted them to stay longer with him.

“We will visit you on our way back,” had promised Captain Clark. Now here they were――and Chief Yellept was glad indeed to see them.

He met them a few miles below the village.

“Come and stay with me three or four days,” he said to the captains. “You shall have more horses, and plenty food. I am wearing the little medal given me from my white father; I hope that you will give me a bigger one.”

The village was six miles above, opposite the mouth of the Walla Walla River. Chief Yellept made good his word. He called his people together, to tell them that they must be hospitable to the white strangers; and he set an example by bringing the captains an armful of wood and a platter of three baked fish. Then all the Walla Walla squaws busied themselves with gathering wood for their guests. Dogs were offered at reasonable prices.

“Dese Wallow-wallows ’mos’ like home folks,” declared York.

Forsooth, it was difficult to get away from the village, so friendly were Chief Yellept’s people. The chief appeared to have taken a great fancy to the Red Head, and presented him with a noble white horse.

“If the Red Head will give me a kettle, for my lodge, I will be happy,” said Yellept.

Among the Walla Wallas there was a Snake Indian prisoner, with whom Sa-ca-ja-we-a, much to her delight, could talk in Sho-sho-ne; and the Snake could translate for her the Walla Walla speech.

“Tell the Sho-sho-ne to tell Chief Yellept that we have no kettles to give,” directed Captain Clark, to the little Bird-woman. “But we will be pleased to give him something else.”

“Yellept say he take what you gif,” interpreted Sa-ca-ja-we-a.

“He’s a fine fellow. You’ll have to give him your sword, Will,” suggested Captain Lewis. “He’s been wanting it, you know.”

“All right. Believe I’ll do it. I couldn’t transfer it to better hands,” quoth Captain Clark. “That’s the last of my official garb, Merne――and you haven’t much left yourself!”

Chief Yellept’s eyes shone as he accepted the prized “long knife”; and shone again when to it were added powder and a hundred bullets for his gun. Now he was a big chief, indeed.

The Bird-woman had spread the word that the white chiefs were great workers in medicine: with their magic box and their wonderful knowledge they healed all sicknesses. Now to Captain Clark and Captain Lewis the Walla Wallas brought broken arms, stiff knees, and sore eyes, for treatment. The captains did their best.

Not until the second morning, following a grand dance by the Indians, at the camp, might the expedition start onward. Chief Yellept had informed them of a short cut, across country, from the mouth of the Walla Walla River to the Pierced Nose country at the Kooskooskee; a Skilloot, who had been guiding the expedition by land, said that he knew the trail, and a Pierced Nose who, with his family, was returning home from a visit below, volunteered to help also; Chief Yellept lent the captains two canoes, for crossing the Columbia to the south side at the mouth of the Walla Walla, where the new trail began.

“The most hospitable, honest and sincere Indians we have met since leaving the United States, Merne,” asserted Captain Clark, when they had been overtaken, a day’s journey out, by three Walla Walla young men who had hastened after to restore to them a beaver-trap that had been forgotten.

XVIII

THE PIERCED NOSES AGAIN

“The white men are coming back! The white men are coming!” sped the glad word among the Cho-pun-nish or Pierced Noses, in their villages 100 miles up, on the Kooskooskee. “They will make us well.”

And the white men were indeed coming, by the trail from the Walla Walla, with the Snake Indian prisoner and Sa-ca-ja-we-a as interpreters; with the Skilloot and the three Walla Walla young men as guides (for the Pierced Nose and family had taken another trail); with some twenty horses, for the baggage, and for William Bratton, and for the men who had sore feet; and with the healing medicine box containing, especially, the celebrated eye-water.

“Let us wance get the horses we left with Twisted-hair an’ we’ll all ride, b’gorry,” quoth Sergeant Pat, limping along.

“On ze Kamass Prairie dere will be plenty root, plenty game,” rejoiced Chaboneau. “An’ mebbe dere we rest, while leetle Toussaint get well.” For little Toussaint seemed to be ailing.

First they were met, before reaching any village, by an old friend, Chief We-ah-koo-nut, and ten warriors. We-ah-koo-nut was called the Bighorn, because he always wore, hanging from his left arm, the horn of a mountain ram.

“We have heard that you were coming, and have ridden to greet you,” said Bighorn. “The sight of you makes our sore eyes well. We have no food for you here, but to-morrow you will reach a lodge where everything will be supplied.”

Before breakfast, in the morning, the lodge was found, on the bank of the Lewis or Snake River; but the families living there could supply only two dogs and some root bread.

Next was met Chief Tetoh, or Sky――the honest fellow who, with Twisted-hair, had helped the expedition get through from the Kamass Prairie to the Timm falls of the Columbia.

“Glad to see you. You are welcome,” exclaimed Tetoh.

“Where is Chief Twisted-hair? We have come to visit our friends, the Pierced Noses, again, and to get our horses,” explained Captain Lewis.

“You must cross the Kin-oo-e-nim (Snake River), here, and go to the Kooskooskee,” replied Chief Tetoh. “There you will find the Twisted-hair, who has your horses.”

So they crossed, in canoes lent to them by Tetoh, and arrived at the Kooskooskee or Clearwater.

“Eye-water, eye-water,” begged the Indians. Captain Clark traded a small bottle of the eye-water for a gray mare.

“You’re the doctor, Will,” laughed Captain Lewis. “From now on we’d better charge a fee. We’ll get more meat that way than with our guns or goods.”

Accordingly Captain Clark, who handled the medicines, exchanged his services for provisions. But the Indians appeared to be very poor, and the “doctor’s” fees in dogs and horses and roots did not amount to much.

“Marse Will won’t nebber make a libbin’ at doctorin’, dat’s suah,” finally admitted York, with a shake of his head. “Anyhow, he ain’t killed anybody yet.”

Chief Twisted-hair’s village was up the Kooskooskee some miles. Chief Sky, and another chief named Cut-nose, rode along with the captains. When questioned about the horses and the saddles, they would give no straight answer; but――――

“S’pose no get ’um horse, no get ’um saddle,” said Sa-ca-ja-we-a.

“Why is that?”

“Sho-sho-ne say he hear saddles gone, horses gone.”

That was alarming news.

“An’ Twisted-hair seemed like a fine gintleman,” bemoaned Sergeant Pat.

“We can get more horses, can’t we, Pat?” queried Peter. “We see lots of horses.”

“Yes, an’ how’ll we buy ’em, when each man of us is down to a couple o’ needles, a bit of thread an’ a yard or so of ribbon, with a pinch o’ paint for an extry?” retorted Pat. “We’ll have to cut the buttons off our clothes, I guess. Cross the mountains on foot ag’in we won’t an’ can’t. They’re waist-deep in snow.”

For the mountains were looming ahead, white and wintry, although this was May.

“The Twisted-hair,” announced Chief Sky, pointing before. And Chief Twisted-hair, with six men, met the procession.

Twisted-hair was not at all in a good humor. He refused to shake hands, he scarcely noticed the captains, and suddenly he and Cut-nose (a very ugly man whose nose had been laid open by a Snake lance, in battle) were quarreling in a loud voice.

“What’s this all about, Chaboneau?” demanded Captain Lewis. “Ask Sa-ca-ja-we-a to have the Sho-sho-ne interpret.”

“Ze Sho-sho-ne will not,” reported Chaboneau. “He say dees is quarrel between two chiefs an’ he haf no right to interfere.”

“We’ll go on a bit and camp and hold a council, Will,” directed Captain Lewis to Captain Clark. “Then we’ll get at the bottom of this business. There’s evidently something wrong with the horses and saddles we left.”

At camp the captains first smoked and talked with Twisted-hair. He said it was true that the horses were scattered, but Cut-nose and another chief, the Broken-arm, were to blame. They had been jealous of him because he had the white men’s horses; and being an old man, he had given up the horses. Some were near, and some were at the village of the Broken-arm, a half-day’s march east. As for the saddles, the cache had fallen in and they might have been stolen, but he had hidden them again.

Then the Cut-nose talked. He said that the Twisted-hair was a bad old man, of two faces; that he had not taken care of the horses but had let his young men ride them, to hunt, until the Broken-arm, who was a higher chief, and he, Cut-nose, had forbidden.

“It is not well that the chiefs quarrel,” reproved Captain Lewis. “Only children quarrel. We will take what horses there are here and we will go on to the village of the Broken-arm, for the other horses.”

This seemed to satisfy everybody. Twisted-hair’s young men brought in twenty-one of the forty-three horses and half the saddles, besides some of the powder and lead that had been buried, also. That night Cut-nose and Twisted-hair slept together.

The Broken-arm and his Nez Percés lived in one large straw-and-mud house 150 feet long. Over it was flying the United States flag that had been given to the nation on the way down last fall. Broken-arm ordered a hide tent erected for the white chiefs; his women hastened there with roots and fish; and when the captains offered to trade a lean horse for a fat one which might be killed, Broken-arm declined.

“When our guests come hungry, we do not sell them food,” he declared. “We have many young horses. All those you see on these plains belong to me and my people. Take what you need for food.”

“Niver before did we have the Injuns offer us somethin’ for nothin’,” gasped Patrick Gass. “At laste, niver before were we told to go help ourselves!”

“The Walla Wallas were as obliging. Don’t forget the Walla Wallas, and Yellept,” reminded George Shannon.

Two weeks were spent near the big house of the Broken-arm, for whom another name was Black Eagle. Captain Clark was appointed official doctor; he had fifty patients at a time. Captain Lewis held a council, and told the warriors about the United States. They promised to make peace with the Sho-sho-nes. Labiche killed a bear.

“These are great hunters. They kill the bear, alone,” exclaimed the Pierced Noses.

Hunters were sent out every day, to get bear, and deer, and elk――whatever they could. The other men were sent out to trade for roots and fish.

Little Toussaint grew better. William Bratton could not walk, but he was put into a hut of boughs and blankets built over a hole in which there had been a fire. Water was sprinkled into the hole. The hot steam soaked William through and through. He was then plunged into cold water, and sweated again in the hut. This was Indian treatment, not white man’s. And it cured Bratton, after even Doctor Red Head had failed.

Most of the saddles and all the horses except two were delivered. These two, said Broken-arm, had been stolen last fall by old Toby and his son on their way back to Chief Ca-me-ah-wait. There now were sixty-five horses on hand――enough for the baggage and for the men. Everybody might ride. So much food had been purchased, that buttons (as Pat had predicted) were being traded in, and John Shields, blacksmith, was making awls out of the links of a beaver-trap chain.

“We must start on, or we won’t reach Fort Mandan before winter,” announced Captain Lewis.

“No, no,” objected Twisted-hair and Sky, and all. “Too much snow. Much water come down. The trail over the mountains is not open. Wait till the next full moon, and the snows will have melted.”

“The salmon will soon be running up the river. Wait, and you shall have food,” said Cut-nose.

“If the white chiefs are hungry, let them kill and eat my horses,” said Chief Ho-has-til-pilp, the Red Wolf, with a wave of his arm.

“We thank the Red Wolf. But we shall need guides. Will the chiefs send some young men with us, to show us the way over the mountains?” asked Captain Lewis.

“When there is grass for the horses, on the Road-to-the-Buffalo, we will send young men,” promised Chief Broken-arm. “But not until after the grand council of all the Pierced Nose nation, on the Kamass Prairie. In the summer we will all go to the buffalo plains of the Missouri, if the white chiefs will protect us from the Snakes and Pahkees.”

“Hold high the peace flag we have given you, and it will turn your enemies into friends,” instructed Captain Lewis.

The Grand Council was not to be held for two or three weeks yet. By the close of the first week of June the river had fallen six feet, showing that the snows were partially melted. The captains decided to push along without guides.

“We cannot wait till July and the full moon, boys,” declared Captain Lewis, in an address to the company. “It’s only 160 miles from the Kamass Prairie to our old camp on the other side at Traveler’s Rest Creek, and there we’ll be done with the snow. If no guides overtake us, Drouillard and Labiche and some of the rest of you are as good trailers as the Indians, and can lead us through.”

“Hooray!” cheered all. They were as anxious as the captains to go. They were in fine fettle. They had been playing prisoner’s base, among themselves, and had been running foot-races with the Nez Percés, to harden their muscles. In the races only one Indian had proved as fast as Peter and John Colter, the American champions.

Now on June 10 camp was broken, and the march to the mountains begun.

“Ten days’ll see us through,” confidently declared Pat.

XIX

BACK ACROSS THE MOUNTAINS

Traveler’s Rest Creek, at last! But Pat’s “ten days” had lengthened into twenty, for this was June 29.

There had been good reason. To be sure, the Kamass Prairie had been found all abloom with the kamass, so that the host of pale petals had made it look like a lake. The wild roses were in flower; the ground squirrels were busy, and supplied tender tidbits. But when the company tried to climb they encountered snow fifteen feet deep, covering the grass and the trail, and the air was that of winter. Game was very scarce.

The captains shook their heads, and called a council of the company.

“We can’t go on in this fashion, men,” said Captain Lewis. “Already we’re short of food, and so are the horses. Even if we knew the trail, and could travel at our best, we’ve four days yet until we reach grass on the other side. If we lost the trail, in the snow, we’d be lost, too. So Captain Clark and I have decided that we all must return to the Kamass Prairie, kill more meat, and see if the Nez Percés won’t furnish us with guides. The snow holds the horses up, and with experienced guides we can make good time. Failing of guides, we’ll try again, anyway――sending our best woodsmen ahead to note the marks on the trees and to blaze the trail. But first, Drouillard and Shannon will start back immediately, to the Nez Percé grand council, which is now in session, and offer two guns for some guides. They’ll join us on the prairie.”

This sounded sensible, although everybody did hate to retrace steps. The going down, amidst snow-hidden rocks and timber, was cruel work.

Drouillard and George Shannon were gone for almost a week. When they reappeared they brought three young Nez Percés warriors as guides. Then a quick trip was made. The first day out the guides set fire to the timber, in order, they said, to “make fair weather.” They led rapidly. They never missed the trail. Whenever the snow thinned, in spots, there, underfoot, was the trail, plain to be seen――the great Nez Percé Road-to-the-Buffalo, from the west of the mountains to the east. Even Drouillard and Sa-ca-ja-we-a exclaimed with approval of such accurate guiding.

All the old camps of the fall before were passed. The Hungry Creek camp, where Captain Clark had left the horse hung up, and where Peter and Reuben Fields had supped on the horse’s head; the camp of September 17, from which Captain Clark had set out ahead to find the Nez Percés; the camp of September 16, where the spotted colt was killed; the camp of September 14, where the black colt was killed.

“Sure, I’m glad we’re goin’ the other way,” remarked Pat. “I’ve no pleasant recollections of the first trip, when we were afoot an’ starvin’.”

And the other men agreed with him.

On the fifth day the mountains had been crossed. On the sixth day the snow had ceased, and the head of Traveler’s Rest Creek was reached. On the next day, June 30, they hastened down the creek, and soon were camped again at its mouth――the camping spot of September 11, before!

“Here we are, back in the Missouri country, boys,” cheered Captain Clark. “We’ve been clear through to the Pacific and not lost a man!”

“An’ nebber killed an Injun,” added York. “But we mighty nigh had to.”

“May have a fight yet,” quoth George Gibson. “We ought to have met some of the Oo-tla-shoots hereabouts. The guides are afraid to go on. They claim their friends have been wiped out by the Pahkees or Blackfeet.”

“Dey much ’fraid,” spoke Drouillard. “Dey see de tracks of two Injuns barefoot.”

As Peter himself knew, Indians who were barefoot were likely to be Indians in distress.

However, the captains did not appear to be alarmed. The news was spread that the company were to be divided. Captain Clark and party were to travel southward, along this, the east side of the mountains, get the canoes and other stuff where they had been hidden at the first meeting place with Chief Ca-me-ah-wait’s Sho-sho-nes. Then half the party, under Sergeant Ordway, were to descend the Jefferson, from there, with the canoes and other stuff, into the main Missouri and on to the White-bear Islands camp at the Great Falls.

The other half of the party, under Captain Clark, were to cross eastward, by land, to the Yellowstone River, and descend that to its mouth in the Missouri.

The Captain Lewis party were to continue eastward from this present camp on Traveler’s Rest Creek, and try to follow the Pierced Nose Road-to-the-Buffalo to the Great Falls of the Missouri; there they were to meet Sergeant Ordway, and at the mouth of the Yellowstone they all were to meet Captain Clark.

Now, with which party did Peter wish to go? The Captain Clark trip sounded very interesting――down that Yellowstone River, where no white men had been. Sa-ca-ja-we-a was to guide him, too, across country. But the Captain Lewis trip also sounded interesting――all by land, through another unknown country, to the wonderful falls again. On this trip there would be good hunting――and possibly the Blackfeet Indians.

The Sergeant Ordway trip sounded the least interesting, for it meant merely floating down the same rivers that they had toiled up.

However, Peter was a soldier and had no choice. So he waited anxiously while the captains made their selections. It was like choosing sides in the game of prisoner’s base.

For Captain Clark: Sergeant Ordway, Sergeant Nat Pryor, John Shields, George Shannon, William Bratton, Dick Windsor, George Gibson, Hugh Hall, Francois Labiche, John Colter, the fast runner, John Collins, Tom Howard, John Potts, Baptiste Lepage, Alex Willard, Joe Whitehouse, Peter Wiser, Old Cruzatte, York, Chaboneau, and the Bird-woman.

For Captain Lewis: Sergeant Pat, Joe Fields and Reuben Fields, Drouillard, the hunter, William Werner, Rob Frazier, Hugh McNeal, John Thompson and Si Goodrich.

Then where was Peter? Nobody seemed to want him. But Sergeant Pat made a scrape and a salute.

“Beg your pardon, sorr,” to Captain Lewis; “but are we to lave Peter here till we come ag’in?”

“’Pon my word!” exclaimed the captain. “No! He’s to come along with us, of course. He’s in your charge, Pat, remember.”

“Yis, sorr. Thank ye, sorr,” answered Pat.

And Peter was glad.

So the parties separated, Captain Clark to the south, and the place where the canoes and goods had been left last August; Captain Lewis to the east and the Great Falls.

“Good luck, boys,” was the final word. “We’ll all meet at the Missouri. Then down we’ll go, for home.”