Part 14

The Pierced Noses who had guided across the mountains went with Captain Lewis a short distance still, to show him the shortest route along the Road-to-the-Buffalo. Before they quit, in order to look for their friends the Oo-tla-shoots or Flat-heads, the captain gave them presents of meat, and exchanged names with the leader, who was a young chief.

The young chief was henceforth to be known as the Long Knife, and Captain Lewis was to be known as Yo-me-kol-lick, or White Bear-skin Unfolded.

It proved to be only nine days’ travel to the White-bear Islands camp at the head of the Falls of the Missouri, and during all the way not an Indian was sighted, although fresh sign was discovered――“Blackfeet!” asserted Drouillard. “De Gros-ventres of de Prairie.”

“Those Big-bellies must be bad Injuns, I’m thinkin’, by the way everywan’s afraid of ’em,” said Pat.

“Very bad,” asserted Peter. For even the Otoes of the south feared the northern “Gros-ventres” as much as they did the Sioux.

There had been plenty of buffalo, bellowing all the nights; but there had been a tremendous amount of mosquitoes, too, which bit so that even the little black dog howled with pain.

Now, here at the old camp were the “white bears,” as pugnacious as before. One treed Hugh McNeal and kept him treed near half a day, after Hugh had broken his gun over the bear’s head.

Nobody had disturbed the articles that had been left here last summer. Some things had spoiled from dampness; but the frame of the iron canoe was all right, and so were the cottonwood wagon-wheels.

“Gass, I’m going to leave you in charge, here,” said the captain. “You will wait till the Ordway party come with the canoes; then you will move the canoes and baggage, by the portage trail, to the foot of the falls, and proceed on down the river. I shall take Drouillard and the two Fields, scout northward and strike the Maria’s River, which I wish to follow down to the Missouri. I will meet you at the mouth of the Maria’s River on the fifth day of August――if all goes well.”

“Sure, Cap’n, do ye think three men’ll be enough for ye?” blurted Pat. “Ye’re goin’ up where the bloody Big Bellies live. Give me Peter alone, an’ take the rist. Peter an’ I are plenty for this camp, till Ordway comes.”

“With Drouillard and the two Fields I’ll stand off the Blackfeet,” laughed Captain Lewis. “Eh, lads?” And he sobered. “If my life is spared, Pat, I’ll meet you on August 5. But if you don’t hear from us, you wait till the first day of September. Then if there’s no word, you will proceed on to Captain Clark at the mouth of the Yellowstone. Tell him that my directions as commanding officer are for him to carry out our program and return to the United States, for I and my party have been destroyed. He already knows that I have planned this side trip to the Maria’s.”

Pat saluted.

“Yis, sorr. An’, sorr (his voice was husky), I hope to meet ye safe an’ sound at the mouth o’ the Maria’s.”

The next morning, which was July 16, the captain took Drouillard, and the two Fields, and six horses, and rode away, for the upper Maria’s River in the country of the Gros-ventres of the Prairie.

“Well, boys,” spoke Pat; “we’re now siven men an’ four hosses, an’ we’d better be busy fixin’ the carts an’ trainin’ the hosses to drag ’em, ferninst the day when Ordway arrives with the canoes. I’ve no fancy for playin’ hoss myself, when we’ve got the rale animals.”

Nothing especial happened, except the mosquitoes, until the arrival of Sergeant Ordway and party. One trip was made to the lower end of the portage, to examine the white pirogue, and the caches; they all were safe. Harness was manufactured, out of elk hide, for attaching the horses to the wagons.

Sergeant Ordway appeared at three o’clock in the afternoon of July 19. He had with him Colter, Cruzatte, Collins, Potts, Lepage, Howard, Willard, Whitehouse, and Peter Wiser; the six canoes that had been sunk in the Jefferson River, and most of the goods that had been buried in the cache, when last August the company under Captain Lewis had set out to follow Chief Ca-me-ah-wait to the Sho-sho-ne camp on the other side of the pass. Nothing had been stolen or injured.

The Sergeant Ordway party had separated from Captain Clark and party at the Three Forks, and had come on down without adventure. The captain probably was now on his way down the Yellowstone.

“An’ how were Sa-ca-ja-we-a an’ the little spalpeen?” asked Pat.

“Fine and hearty. The Bird-woman said she knew the way to the Yellowstone. She’d been all through that country, when the Sho-sho-nes hunted the buffalo.”

When the canoes were loaded upon the carts, the horses pulled very well, for buffalo-horses; but, just as a year ago, the rain and the mud interfered, the carts broke; besides, Pat was taken ill; so that five days were required for carrying canoes and baggage around the series of falls, to the old Portage Creek camp at the lower end.

One canoe was worthless, but the others were placed in the water; so was the white pirogue; the blunderbuss or swivel cannon was unearthed and mounted in its bows, as before.

“Faith, we’re gettin’ all our plunder together, wance ag’in,” congratulated Pat. “An’ there’s more of it, an’ the red pirogue, remember, at the mouth o’ the Maria’s, where we’re to meet Cap’n Lewis. Do you be takin’ the canoes down, Ordway, an’ Peter an’ I’ll ride by land with the hosses.”

The mouth of the Maria’s was not far――fifty miles by river, according to Pat’s journal, written on the way up, but less by land. The Maria’s, as Peter recalled, was the fork of the Missouri where camp had been made while the captains debated which route led to the Columbia. Captain Lewis had explored up the Maria’s and he and Captain Clark had decided that the other fork was the right channel――the “true” Missouri.

Peter and Pat covered thirty miles this first day. They saw thousands of buffalo, and a pack of wolves chasing an antelope. Pat shot an antelope, with his rifle, and Peter killed a buffalo with his arrows; the next morning they killed, together, six antelope and seven buffalo――which was all the meat that they could pack, although, as declared Pat, they might have killed a hundred.

Shortly after noon they came in sight of the mouth of the Maria’s. Sergeant Ordway’s party with the canoes already were there, and ashore.

“An’ ain’t that Drouillard, too?” exclaimed Pat. “Yis! An’ the cap’n, b’gorry! An’ the two Fieldses! Somethin’ must have fetched ’em back in a hurry. ’Tis only July 28; they’re a week ahead o’ time.”

He quickened his horse into a trot, and leading each a horse packed high with meat and hides, he and Peter hastened forward to learn the news.

XX

CAPTAIN LEWIS MEETS THE ENEMY

The party seemed to be overhauling the cache here as if in a great hurry to go on; but the captain waved greeting, and Joe Fields straightened up, to grin.

“Yez got back mighty quick,” accused Pat. “Didn’t yez go? An’ where are the hosses?”

“Sure we went,” retorted Joe. “Hosses? We’ve turned ’em loose, of course; and you’ll be turnin’ yours loose, too, in a minute. So tumble off and I’ll help you unpack. There’s no time to waste. You ought to’ve been along, Pat. We had a beautiful brush with the Injuns.”

“Didn’t I tell yez?” reminded Pat. “Annywan hurt?”

“None of us. We wiped two of them out, though――and a ball cut the captain’s ha’r. ’Twas this way,” continued Joe, as he tugged at a rope end, to release the pack of meat: “On the fust day, ’fore we’d gone more’n twenty mile from the falls, we struck Injun sign in shape of a wounded-buffler trail; and after that we kept guard all night, for fear of our hosses. When we got to the Maria’s we turned down, after scoutin’ ’round a bit. Found a lot of old Injun lodges, but didn’t see any Injuns till the 26th. Then the cap’n sighted a bunch o’ hosses, thirty of ’em, through his spy-glass――and next several Injuns, on a hill, lookin’ at Drouillard, who was across the river.

“’Bout half the hosses were saddled, which meant more Injuns somewhere near. Our hosses were too tuckered to run far, and of course we couldn’t leave Drouillard; so the cap’n said: ‘We’ll go right on to those Injuns, boys; put on a bold front, and we’ll have it out with ’em. Don’t let ’em think we’re afraid. They may not be the Gros-vent’s.’ When the Injuns fust saw us comin’, they acted like they were more afraid of us than we were of them. But we finally got together, the cap’n made the peace sign, and told ’em our other man had the pipe and after he’d come in we’d smoke. So Reub and one of the Injuns went after Drouillard.

“There were only eight of ’em. They were the Big-bellies, all right, but they had nothin’ except two guns, and clubs and bows and arrers. We thought we could take care of ourselves; and that night we all camped together. The cap’n told us in case of trouble to stick up and keep together and save the baggage.

“We slept in the same lodge with ’em. The cap’n had given three of ’em a flag and a medal and a handkerchief; but he put Reub on guard for the night, and told him to watch sharp and wake us quick, so’s to look after the hosses, if the Injuns tried to sneak out. He and Drouillard lay down with the Injuns, and Reub and I stayed at the fire in the lodge entrance.

“I went to sleep. Just at sunrise I woke up with a jump. Reub had yelled――and there was an Injun runnin’ off with my gun and his, and Reub in chase. Drouillard was up and yellin’, too――‘Let go my gun! Let go my gun!’ he bawled, and I see him wrestlin’ with another Injun, and the cap’n aimin’ at another with his pistol. But I had to have my gun, so I ran after Reub and the fust Injun. Before I got there, Reub had caught him and knifed him, and had both guns. Drouillard had his gun by this time, and all the Injuns came pourin’ out of the lodge, makin’ for the hosses, with the cap’n and his pistol followin’ the third Injun.

“We drew a bead on the fellow, but he dropped the cap’n’s gun, and the cap’n wouldn’t let us shoot. ‘Look out for those other rascals!’ he ordered. ‘They’re trying to drive off the hosses!’ So Reub and Drouillard and I ran after six who were roundin’ up the most of the hosses; and the cap’n set out after his Injun and another who were drivin’ away a bunch. He made ’em leave twelve, but they kept on, with his hoss, and that he was bound to get. He didn’t have his bullet pouch or his hat; and when they were just ’bout to disappear in a little gully he told ’em to surrender the hoss or he’d fire. With that they turned on him, and fire he did, downin’ one of ’em slick as a whistle, but the fellow had life enough to fire back an’ sent a ball through the cap’n’s ha’r.

“The cap’n had only his pistol, now, so he quit, and the other Injun made off with the hoss. Drouillard had turned back to help the cap’n, but Reub and I follered our Injuns till we got four of our own critters, and then we let the rest go. Didn’t matter, ’cause there were the twelve left by the Injuns, so we’d come out ahead in the little game. Besides, we had the lodge, four shields, two bows and quivers, and a gun. Likewise the flag we’d given, and the medal――but we left the medal on the neck of the Injun Reub had killed, so as to show what kind of people we were.

“Well, we didn’t hang ’round there long, you bet. The Injuns had said the main band was only a day and a half away, and when the cap’n had invited ’em to bring their chiefs to council he of course told ’em where our camp was――at the mouth of the Maria’s. Now we were desperate afraid the Injuns’d out-foot us and attack you-all at the river. We took four best horses, and only what meat we could carry, rode a hundred miles, with an hour and a half of rest, camped at two in the mornin’, then rode another twenty miles and struck Ordway comin’ down with the canoes. We got aboard and here we are――and the cap’n is in a powerful hurry to join Cap’n Clark below.”

That was true; for, as said Drouillard: “Dose Blackfeet now will hold all white men as enemies.”

This cache had caved in, and much of the supplies had spoiled. The red pirogue also was found to be worthless, except for its spikes. Captain Lewis hustled the work of loading, the rest of the horses were turned loose, and down the river again voyaged all. Sergeant Ordway was in charge of the five canoes, Sergeant Pat and squad had charge of the white pirogue, which was the flagship.

A sharp lookout was kept for the Big Bellies on the banks. However, nothing happened. The mouth of the Yellowstone was several days ahead; and when it was reached, no Captain Clark or others of that party appeared in sight. When halt was made, to look for sign, traces of the captain’s camp were found, and in the sand Lepage discovered the scrawl:

W. C. a few miles further down on right hand side.

“When was that written, Lepage, do you think?” queried Captain Lewis.

“Mebbe two, mebbe t’ree day ago,” said Baptiste. “De rain haf washed it.”

“At any rate, he’s safe,” uttered the captain, with much satisfaction. “I expect the mosquitoes drove him out of here. Whew!” For the mosquitoes were worse than ever. “We’ll overtake him to-morrow.”

But they did not overtake the captain’s party on the morrow, nor on the next day. On the third day, which was August 11, the canoes stopped to take aboard some meat; the white pirogue continued on, until Captain Lewis espied a herd of elk in some willow brush, near the shore.

“Turn in, boys,” he bade. “Wait here. Come on, Cruzatte. We’ll get a few of those fellows.”

Out he leaped, gun in hand; and he and One-eyed Cruzatte disappeared in the brush.

“Faith, let’s hope there aren’t Injuns there, too,” quoth Sergeant Pat. “It’s a likely place for an ambush.”

“Hardly stands to reason there’d be elk whar there are Injuns,” remarked Alec Willard.

Everybody waited anxiously; gazed and listened. Two rifle-shots were heard, distant.

“There’s meat, I reckon,” said Alec.

Presently another shot; and in about ten minutes out from the willow brush and to the sandy shore burst Captain Lewis. He was running, limping, staggering――he’d been wounded――the left thigh of his leather breeches was stained red!

“To your arms, boys!” cried Sergeant Pat.

Captain Lewis staggered on, to the white pirogue.

“I’ve been shot, men,” he panted. “Not mortally, I think. Indians are in that thicket. Cruzatte is somewhere there, too.”

“Did you see any Injuns, cap’n?”

“No; the ball came from ambush, just as I was aiming at an elk. Gass, take the men and follow me. We must rescue Cruzatte. I’d lost sight of him.”

“Willard, you and the two Fields,” roared Pat, springing into the shallows. “The bloody Big-bellies ag’in!”

But Peter went also, with his bow and arrows. Nobody objected. The captain led on for about one hundred steps, when his leg gave out and he almost fell.

“I can’t travel,” he gasped. “I’ll return to the boat. If you’re overpowered, Sergeant, keep your men together and retreat in good order, and we’ll fight from the river.”

“Yis, sorr.” And Pat gallantly plunged ahead, into the brush. “Kentucky an the Irish ag’in the redskins, lads,” he cheered. “But mind your eyes.”

This was exciting. The willows were thick――good hiding-place. Where was Cruzatte――poor old Cruzatte with the one eye? Peter stuck close behind Pat. His nostrils were wide, his eyes roved, his every sense was on the alert. He was Oto once more. Now was heard a crashing, before. Elk? Indian? Hah!

“That’s a mighty quare sort o’ Injun, to be makin’ all that noise,” muttered Pat, peering, his rifle advanced at a ready.

And through a little open space here came Cruzatte! He was striding along, with stained hands, his rifle on his shoulder, making for the boats and plainly much satisfied with himself.

“Hist!” said Pat. “Cruzatte! ’Asy now.”

Cruzatte started, and crouched.

“Have ye seen Injuns?”

“Non,” answered Cruzatte. “I shoot one elk, follow ’nodder.”

“Come back to the boats with us, an’ step lively,” ordered Pat. “There be Injuns ’round. They shot the cap’n in the leg.”

“My gracious!” stammered Cruzatte. “But I see no sign.”

“Nayther do we. Sure, it’s powerful suspicious,” muttered Pat.

They found the captain all prepared to defend himself in the pirogue. He had laid out his rifle, pistol and pike, and was propped behind the air-gun that could shoot forty times.

“What did you discover?” he challenged.

“Not a thing, sorr,” reported Pat. “An’ Cruzatte, here, knows no more about the Injuns than the rist of us.”

“Where have you been, Cruzatte?”

“I shoot wan elk, same time you shoot. Den I see nodder in brush, I shoot at heem, he vaneesh an’ I try to find heem, but he get away.”

“Oh, you did! How much of him did you see when you shot?”

“B’gorry, you shot the cap’n!” bellowed Sergeant Pat. “That’s what you did. Ye’re blind as a mole! B’gorry, you shot the cap’n――ye shot your commandin’ officer, an’ by that ye’re to be coortmartialed an’ shot yourself!”

“Non, non!” wailed old Cruzatte, wringing his hands. “I no mean to shoot heem. I see wan leetle brown spot in brush――look jus’ like wan elk-fur, long way off; I take aim, bang!――I t’ink I see elk run, an’ I run to ketch heem. I no mean to shoot my capitaine. It wan grand mistake.”

“Didn’t you hear me call?” demanded the captain. “I suspected maybe that ball came from your rifle and I hallooed as loud as I could. Why, by the shock you couldn’t have been more than forty paces!”

“I hear notting. I hear not one word,” protested Cruzatte.

“The ball coming from so close, and you not answering, I of course thought of Indians,” continued the captain.

“B’gorry, give me wan chance at him an’ I’ll close his other eye,” besought Pat; and all the men murmured angrily, while poor Cruzatte shivered with fright.

“I no mean to shoot my capitaine,” he babbled.

“Never mind, men,” said the captain. “It was an error. My leather breeches are just the shade of an elk hide, remember. Let’s dress the wound. I doubt if it’s serious.”

The ball had passed clear through his left thigh, and had furrowed the right; but it seemed not to have touched the bone or any artery. After the wounds had been dressed and lint stuffed into the holes, the canoes with the other elk hunters arrived; and not waiting to explain much the captain insisted upon them all pushing along, to catch up with Captain Clark.

Now that he himself was laid up, this was more necessary than before. All he could do was to rest, half sitting, in the stern of the white pirogue. His leg had so stiffened that he could scarcely move it.

XXI

THE HOME STRETCH

Captain Clark was safe and well, with all his men, and only a short distance down river! This was learned the next day from two white trappers――the first Americans met in over a year. Their names were Hancock and Dickson. They had left Illinois, of the United States, in the summer of 1804, and had been trapping in the upper Missouri country ever since.

They said that Captain Clark’s party had passed them yesterday, but had lost all the horses, by Indians, and were traveling in two wooden canoes and two hide canoes. The captain had the idea that Captain Lewis and party were ahead of him.

Trappers Hancock and Dickson had other news, also. They had seen the barge, under Corporal Warfington, on its way from Fort Mandan, last summer, to St. Louis. All aboard were well. Brave Raven, the Arikara chief, was there, bound for Washington; and so were several Yankton Sioux chiefs, with old Pierre Dorion. But the Mandans and Minnetarees were at war with the Arikaras; and the Mandans and the Assiniboines were at war, too; and the Sioux were “bad.” So that the peace talks by the captains had not buried the hatchet very deep.

Anyway, soon after noon, this day, Captain Clark’s camp was sighted, before.

“What’s the matter here?” demanded Captain Clark, the instant that the pirogue grounded. He saw Captain Lewis lying in the stern.

“Nothing serious, Will. Merely a gun wound, in the thigh. Cruzatte shot me by accident.”

“De capitin shot!” cried Sa-ca-ja-we-a, running to him.

“I not mean to,” repeated Cruzatte, still in much distress. “I t’ink I see one elk in brush.”

“That’s all right, Cruzatte,” consoled Captain Lewis.

Yes, Captain Clark’s party all were here, so that the whole company were united again. The captain had had a successful trip down the Yellowstone. The Bird-woman (who now was applying some Indian salve to Captain Lewis’s wound) had proved a valuable guide across country. Captain Clark was emphatic in his praise of her. George Gibson had fallen on a sharp piece of timber and driven it two inches into his thigh. Indians had early stolen twenty-four horses, and had left only a worn-out moccasin in exchange. Labiche had trailed them, but had been obliged to give up.

The Yellowstone was a fine stream, with many beaver, and many bear. At the Missouri the mosquitoes had been so pestiferous that only brief camps could be made. Little Toussaint was bitten so severely that his eyes were puffed shut, and the mosquitoes settled so thickly on the captain’s gun-barrel as to prevent his taking aim!

“We achieved one important thing,” laughed the captain. “We named a river for York!”

“Yessuh!” gabbled York. “Yessuh! Dar’s a ribber up yahnduh ’long de Yallerstone named foh me: Yawk’s Dry Ribber.”

Sergeant Pryor, George Shannon, Hugh Hall and Dick Windsor had been detailed to drive the remaining fifty horses overland to the Mandan town; but the first night, Indians had stolen every one of these, also, and the squad were obliged to turn back. On the way, while the sergeant was asleep in camp a wolf had bitten him through the hand, and had tried to seize Dick, but George Shannon had shot just in time. Back again at the Yellowstone they had manufactured two round canoes, like Mandan canoes, from buffalo hides stretched over basketry, with hoops as top and bottom. In these they had finally caught up with Captain Clark.

“You’re in command now, Will,” said Captain Lewis. “I can’t do much――I can’t even write the records. But we’re in the home stretch. Let’s push on as fast as we can.”

The two free-trappers, Hancock and Dickson, came down in their canoe to go with the company as far as the Mandan town.

“Sure, we’ll be there in a jiffy,” proclaimed Sergeant Pat. “’Tis wonderful good fortune we’ve had――clane across to the Paycific an’ nigh home ag’in, an’ only wan man lost an’ nobody bad hurt but the cap’n.”

Now Sa-ca-ja-we-a, the Bird-woman, was much excited; for she was near home, too. The first day eighty-six miles were covered. The next day, in the morning, they arrived once more at the Minnetaree village, and the village of the Mandans opposite.

“Boom!” signaled the blunderbuss. And then again, and again. The Minnetarees, the Ah-na-ha-ways or Wassoons, and the Mandans flocked to the river banks.

“Our white fathers are back!” they cried, one to another.

The Indians seemed delighted. It was a great triumph――it really was like getting home. Sa-ca-ja-we-a hardly could wait for the boats to land. Landing was made among the Ah-na-ha-ways, but headquarters were immediately established among Chief Black Cat’s Mandans. The Bird-woman, carrying little Toussaint, proudly accompanied Chaboneau to the Minnetarees――which was _her_ village――to invite them to council with the white chiefs. Drouillard was sent down to get Jessaume and Big White.

Captain Clark held a council in the Black Cat’s village. He invited the chiefs to go with him to Washington, and call on the great white father. Black Cat and Le Borgne, the one-eyed Minnetaree head chief, and old Cherry-on-a-Bush and others answered. They said that the Sioux would kill any of them who ventured down the river. The captain answered that all would be protected against the bad Sioux, and would return safe, escorted by United States warriors and loaded with presents.

At last Big White agreed to take his wife and child and accompany the Red Head and the Long Knife.