CHAPTER V
WITH THE SIOUX
Toward the end of August the party reached the Sioux country. Some of the tribes of this nation were known to be friendly toward the whites, while others had acquired a manner overbearing and insolent, inspired by the inferior numbers of the traders who had visited them in the past, and by the subservient attitude which these had assumed. From such tribes there was good reason to anticipate opposition, or even open hostility. But the specific nature of their mission made the officers desirous of a personal meeting with all tribes, irrespective of their past reputation. There is a saying familiar to Western folk: "Show an Indian that you are afraid of him, and he will give you reason for fear." The travelers were not afraid. They adopted the custom of the traders and set fire to the dry grasses of the prairie, intending that the smoke should notify the Indians of their approach and summon them to the river. Shortly before this they had encountered upon the river one Pierre Dorion, a half-breed son of the notable Old Dorion, whose fame is celebrated in Irving's "Astoria." This man was then on his way to St. Louis, but was persuaded to return with the expedition to his home among the Sioux, there to act as interpreter and intermediary, in which service he proved useful.
Relations with the Sioux began on the 29th of August. The meeting was attended with elaborate ceremonies. One of the non-commissioned officers was dispatched with Dorion to a village twelve miles distant from the camp, taking presents of tobacco, corn, and cooking utensils. In view of the later history of the Sioux, and because of the intrinsic charm of the narrative, the story of this encounter is quoted at length from Mr. Biddle's well-edited version:—
"August 29th.... Sergeant Pryor reported that on reaching their village, he was met by a party with a buffalo-robe, on which they desired to carry their visitors,—an honor which they declined, informing the Indians that they were not the commanders of the boats. As a great mark of respect, they were then presented with a fat dog, already cooked, of which they partook heartily, and found it well flavored....
"August 30th.... We prepared a speech and some presents, and then sent for the chiefs and warriors, whom we received, at twelve o'clock, under a large oak tree, near which the flag of the United States was flying. Captain Lewis delivered a speech, with the usual advice and counsel for their future conduct. We acknowledged their chiefs, by giving to the grand chief a flag, a medal, a certificate, and a string of wampum; to which we added a chief's coat—that is, a richly laced uniform of the United States Artillery corps, with a cocked hat and red feather. One second chief and three inferior ones were made or recognized by medals, a suitable present of tobacco, and articles of clothing. We smoked the pipe of peace, and the chiefs retired to a bower formed of bushes by their young men, where they divided among one another the presents, smoked, eat, and held a council on the answer which they were to make us to-morrow. The young people exercised their bows and arrows in shooting at marks for beads, which we distributed to their best marksmen. In the evening the whole party danced until a late hour, and, in the course of their amusement, we threw among them some knives, tobacco, bells, tape, and binding, with which they were much pleased....
"August 31st. In the morning, after breakfast, the chiefs met and sat down in a row, with pipes of peace highly ornamented; all pointed toward the seats intended for Captains Lewis and Clark. When they arrived and were seated, the grand chief, whose Indian name Weucha is in English Shake Hand, and in French is called Le Liberateur (The Deliverer), rose and spoke at some length, approving what we had said, and promising to follow our advice. 'I see before me,' said he, 'my Great Father's two sons. You see me and the rest of our chiefs and warriors. We are very poor; we have neither powder, nor ball, nor knives; and our women and children at the village have no clothes. I wish that as my brothers have given me a flag and a medal, they would give something to those poor people, or let them stop and trade with the first boat which comes up the river. I will bring chiefs of the Pawnees and Mahas together, and make peace between them; but it is better that I should do it than my Great Father's sons, for they will listen to me more readily. I will also take some chiefs to your country in the Spring; but before that time I cannot leave home. I went formerly to the English, and they gave me a medal and some clothes; when I went to the Spanish, they gave me a medal, but nothing to keep it from my skin; but now you give me a medal and clothes. But still we are poor; and I wish, brothers, that you would give us something for our squaws.'
... "They promised to make peace with the Otoes and Missouris, the only nations with whom they are now at war. All these harangues concluded by describing the distress of the nation; they begged us to have pity on them; to send them traders; they wanted powder and ball, and seemed anxious that we should supply them with some of their Great Father's milk, the name by which they distinguished ardent spirits."
These were the Yanktons, one of the important tribes of the great Sioux nation. The Yanktons have always been known to the whites as a people of distinction, shrewd, artful, good hunters, good fighters, and altogether quite able to take care of themselves. In their inmost hearts, they were vain of their prestige amongst their inferior neighbors; nor did they really acknowledge the superiority of the whites. Their speeches must be taken as declarations of momentary policy, and not of fixed principles. Further, they did not express the thought of the tribe as a whole, but only the inclinations of those chiefs who were for the time in authority, and whose word was for that time the tribal law. The bearing of the Yanktons, as of almost every other Indian tribe, has been modified or altogether changed, time and again, under the will of successive chiefs.
The attention of the expedition was not wholly engrossed with the Indians. From day to day the journals are filled with careful and valuable notes upon the natural history and physical geography of the land, about which nothing had as yet been written. Under the date of September 7th there occurs a good description of the prairie-dog; and on the 17th the antelope of the Western plains was described. Both of these animals were then unknown to science.
September 25th the party walked close to the edge of catastrophe, when they met with another tribe of the Sioux,—the Tetons. This was the first occasion for an exhibition of the fighting temper of the men. In describing the encounter, Captain Clark's journal is as usual picturesque and graphic:—
"Envited the Chiefs on board to show them our boat & such curiossities as was strange to them, we gave them ¼ a glass of whiskey which they appeared to be verry fond of, sucked the bottle after it was out & soon began to be troublesom, one the 2d chief assumeing Drunkness, as a Cloaki for his rascally intentions. I went with those chiefs (which left the boat with great reluctiance) to shore with a view of reconseleing those men to us, as soon as I landed the Perogue three of their young men seased the cable of the Perogue, the chiefs soldr. Huged the mast, and the 2d chief was verry insolent both in words & justures declareing I should not go on, stateing he had not received presents sufficient from us, his justures were of such a personal nature I felt myself compeled to Draw my sword, at this motion Capt. Lewis ordered all under arms in the boat, those with me also showed a disposition to Defend themselves and me, the grand chief then took hold of the roap & ordered the young warrers away, I felt myself warm & spoke in very positive terms. We proceeded about 1 mile & anchored out off a willow Island placed a guard on shore to protect the Cooks & a guard in the boat, fastened the Perogues to the boat, I call this Island Bad Humered Island as we were in a bad humer."
The journals for the next day say:—
"Our conduct yesterday seemed to have inspired the Indians with fear of us, and as we were desirous of cultivating their acquaintance, we complied with their wish that we should give them an opportunity of treating us well, and also suffer their squaws and children to see us and our boat, which would be perfectly new to them. Accordingly ... we came to on the south side, where a crowd of men, women and children were waiting to receive us. Captain Lewis went on shore and remained several hours; and observing that their disposition was friendly, we resolved to remain during the night for a dance, which they were preparing for us."
The two officers were received on shore by ten well-dressed young men, who took them up in a decorated robe and carried them in state to the council-house. There the pipe of peace was smoked, a ceremonious dog-feast was prepared; the chieftains delivered themselves of speeches, divided between fawning adulation and flamboyant boasting; and then came a sort of state ball, which continued until midnight. The next morning the travelers were suffered to proceed.
That was a notable encounter. The Tetons have always been counted among the most irresponsible villains of their race, treacherous by first impulse, murderous by strongest inclination, thievish according to opportunity, combining the effrontery of Italian beggars with the boldness begotten by their own sanguinary history. Yet this determined little band faced them in the heart of their own land, and overawed them.
For many days thereafter, parties of the Tetons appeared from time to time upon the river banks, following the boats, begging, threatening, doing everything in their power to harass the advance. No doubt they had already repented of their brief show of decency, and would have made an open demonstration had they dared. Through those days the men generally encamped upon islands or sand-bars in mid-stream, deeming it wise to avoid further contact with the tribe. It was a decided relief to get beyond their territory.
On October 10th they reached the land of the Ricaras, a tribe whose conduct, in all domestic and foreign relations, was in striking contrast to that of the Sioux, and indeed almost unique. The Ricaras could not be induced to drink whiskey!
Soon after the arrival at the Ricara villages, one of the privates was tried by court-martial for some act of insubordination, and was sentenced to be publicly whipped. The execution of the sentence "affected the Indian chief very sensibly, for he cried aloud during the punishment." When the matter was explained to him, "he acknowledged that examples were necessary, and that he himself had given them by punishing with death; but his nation never whipped even children from their birth." Universal sobriety, and compassionate tears from the eyes of a warrior! Surely, that tribe was curious.
By the last of October the travelers came to the camps of the Mandans and Minnetarees, 1600 miles from St. Louis; and there, being warned by the calendar and by cold, they prepared to take up winter quarters. Their first care was to find a suitable place for building log cabins and fortifications. With this work the men were engaged until November 20th, when Fort Mandan was completed and occupied.
Meanwhile, the officers had sought to extend acquaintance among the Indians, and to establish confidence and bring them into sympathy with the new conditions of government. So far as pledges were concerned, they were fairly successful; the Indians received them hospitably.
The Mandans had once been a powerful nation, living in numerous villages down the river; but continued wars with the Sioux, coupled with sad ravages of the small-pox, had reduced them to an insignificant number, and compelled them to remove out of easy reach of their strongest enemies. When Lewis and Clark came upon them, they formed only a trifling souvenir of their past grandeur; they had then but two poor villages at this remote site, where they lived in a precarious hand-to-mouth fashion, having no allies but a small force of Minnetarees near by.
But Fate had managed the matter very well, no doubt, in depriving these people of effective strength in war; for at this time the head chief of the Minnetaree villages was a man who, given opportunity, would have made the river run red with the blood of his enemies. This was Le Borgne, a one-eyed old despot, of surpassing cruelty and bloodthirstiness, whose very name, even in his present position, would compel a shiver of apprehension. A chief such as he, at the head of forces matched to his ferocious desires, would have changed the history of the Upper Missouri. As it was, he spent most of his villainous instincts for his own private amusement,—occasionally slaughtering one of his warriors who had given him displeasure, or butchering a couple of his wives whose society had grown irksome; and between times he leered with his solitary evil eye upon the traders, contriving ways for getting whiskey with which to bait his passions. The British traders of the Hudson Bay and Northwest companies had long before secured a strong foothold in this territory, and had sought by every means to monopolize the traffic. The ubiquitous French were there also, domiciled in the villages, and some of them had taken squaws to wife. With schooling from such as these, old Le Borgne had cut his wisdom teeth; he had made himself master of many low tricks and subtleties practiced by white traders and vagabonds; he was as skillful as the best of them in making promises, and as skillful as the worst in breaking them. He was a scamp, and a blackguard.
Lewis and Clark succeeded directly in effecting a treaty of peace between the Mandans and Ricaras, and among other small tribes of the region round about; but they were powerless in trying to reconcile these people to the Sioux, who were the bogie-men of the plains, and who conducted themselves in every affair of peace or war with the arrogance of incontestable power. Not death itself could extinguish the hatred that was felt for them by the weaker tribes, compelled to skulk and tremble.
Early in November the officers received a visit from two squaws, who had been taken prisoners by the Mandans, many years before, in a war with the Snake Indians of the Rocky Mountains. One of these squaws was named Sacajawea, the "Bird Woman"; she had been but a child at the time of her capture, when she had been taken to the Mandan villages and there sold to a Frenchman, known as Chaboneau, who kept her until she reached womanhood and then married her. She was destined to play a considerable part in the later work of the expedition, and to lend to it one of its few elements of true romance.
The winter was passed busily, but for the most part quietly. The men suffered no serious deprivation. Game was abundant; and one member of the party, who was a good amateur blacksmith, set up a small forge, where he turned out a variety of tools, implements, and trinkets, which were traded to the Indians for corn. Everything went well. The officers were as busy as the men, and their occupations were varied and vital.
They found difficulty in getting credit for the news they bore that the government of the United States was to be thereafter in fact as well as in name the controlling agency in administering the affairs of the territory and in regulating trade. To make the Indian mind ready to receive this lesson, it was first necessary to correct the evils bred by the earlier short-sighted rule of the Spanish, and to uproot a strong predisposition in favor of the British traders. The Hudson Bay Company had been in existence since 1670, and the Northwest Company since 1787; and they were not inclined to surrender their control of trade without a struggle.
Aside from this task, the two youthful men-of-all-work were continually engaged in gathering material for a report upon the ethnology of the Upper Missouri and the plains. They have left to us a remarkably acute and accurate monograph upon the subject, which shows that they were even then alive to most of the questions likely to arise in the process of reducing the land to order. The data thus collected were entered at length in the journals; and a fair copy of these was made, for transmittal to Washington in the spring. There were maps to be drawn, too; and a mass of interesting objects was gathered to illustrate the natural history of the route. This material had to be cleaned, prepared, assorted and catalogued, and packed for shipment, to accompany the report and illuminate its story, so that Mr. Jefferson might have a full understanding of what had been accomplished during the first year. The five months spent at Fort Mandan did not drag. The best part of the winter's work lay in the attitude which was taken in dealing with the Indians. In every particular of behavior, the strictest integrity was observed. An Indian is as ready as any one to recognize genuineness. Before springtime, the Mandans and Minnetarees knew that they had found friends.
In March the men began boat-building, preparatory to resuming their journey. The batteau was too cumbrous for use toward the head waters of the Missouri, and it was to be sent back to St. Louis. To take its place, canoes were fashioned from green cottonwood planks. Cottonwood lumber is full of whims and caprices,—bending, twisting, cracking like brown paper, so as to be wholly unfit for ordinary carpentry; but there was no other material available. Six canoes were made to hang together somehow; and in these ramshackle structures, together with the two periogues, the party covered more than a thousand miles of the roughest water of the Missouri. Annoyance was to be expected. The boats were continually splitting, opening at the seams, filling, and swamping, so that much time was lost in stopping to make repairs and to dry the water-soaked cargoes. This was merely an inconvenience, not an obstacle.
CHAPTER VI
TO THE FALLS OF THE MISSOURI
On the afternoon of April 7, 1805, winter quarters were abandoned. Of the original forty-five men two had been lost; but three recruits had been gained,—Chaboneau, his squaw Sacajawea, and their infant son, born in February. From Fort Mandan fourteen of the men returned to St. Louis in the barge, carrying documents, collections, and trophies, while thirty-two went onward, to be separated from their kind for almost eighteen months. On this day Captain Lewis wrote in his journal:—
"This little fleet altho' not quite so rispectable as those of Columbus or Capt. Cook, were still viewed by us with as much pleasure as those deservedly famed adventurers ever beheld theirs; and I dare say with quite as much anxiety for their safety and preservation. We were now about to penetrate a country at least two thousand miles in width, on which the foot of civilized man had never trodden; the good or evil it had in store for us was for experiment yet to determine, and these little vessells contained every article by which we were to expect to subsist or defend ourselves. However as the state of mind in which we are, generally gives the coloring to events, when the imagination is suffered to wander into futurity, the picture which now presented itself to me was a most pleasing one, entertaining as I do the most confident hope of succeeding in a voyage which had formed a darling project of mine for the last ten years, I could but esteem this moment of our departure as among the most happy of my life."
April 26th they came to the mouth of the Yellowstone River, which enters the Missouri 1888 miles above St. Louis. They had had no adventure of moment; neither was there cause for immediate anxiety, save as they observed signs of the Assiniboins. From the tribes with whom they had talked at winter quarters, they had heard stirring tales of this cut-throat band, which had inspired the wish to pass unobserved through their country. This desire was fulfilled. There was no meeting with the Assiniboins.
Of all the wild creatures of the Western wilderness, the one which could least be spared from the literature of adventure is the grizzly bear. Lewis and Clark were the first white men to give an account of this beast. Many of the Indian lodge-tales to which they had listened rang with the fame of the grizzly, as a background for the greater fame of the narrators. As a matter of course, fact and figment were inextricably blended in these tales; but, while they did not show the animal as it was, they could not exaggerate its untamable courage, its ferocity, or its rugged power of endurance. On April 29th, Captain Lewis, with a party of hunters, proved the truth of all that had been told him upon these points, and more; and upon many occasions thereafter, while the party was making its way from the Yellowstone country to the mountains, there were encounters from which the men escaped by mere good fortune. The most critical adventures with the Indians were but child's play in comparison. Despite their boasting, the Indians would seldom venture to provoke a fight with a grizzly, except in the most favorable circumstances, and when strength of numbers inspired them with bravado. Reckless and headlong as wild elephants, nothing would daunt the grizzlies, once they had set about fighting; and so hardy were they as often to escape, apparently unharmed, though their vital parts were riddled with lead.
Until the Rocky Mountains were reached, there was almost no hardship arising from scarcity of food. Early in May, Captain Lewis wrote that game of all sorts abounded, being so gentle as to take no alarm of the hunters. "The male buffalo particularly will hardly give way to us, and as we approach will merely look at us for a moment, as something new, and then quietly resume their feeding.... Game is in such plenty that it has become a mere amusement to supply the party with provisions." In the months that followed, the men carried a blessed memory of that abundance.
As they drew near to the foothills, navigation became more and more difficult. The river lost the sullen, muddy aspect of its lower course, where it flowed between low, sandy banks, and took the character of a mountain stream, walled with rock and filled with dangers. Then it was that the cottonwood skiffs betrayed their weaknesses. Accidents were of almost daily occurrence; and on one occasion the boat containing the instruments and papers was nearly lost. They were then more than two thousand miles from any place where such a loss could have been repaired. To go on would have been idle, without means for making accurate observations; they would have been obliged to turn back. In the face of this perpetual threat, they had no resource but to take their chances with luck; with the best they could do, they could not adequately safeguard themselves against calamity. For the time being, at least, they were rank fatalists.
On Sunday, May 26th, Captain Lewis left camp on foot, ascended to the summit of a ridge of hills near the river, and from the height had his first glimpse of the distant ranges of the Rocky Mountains. This was about a year and a half before Pike's discovery. The journal entry for that day comes near to showing emotion:—
"While I viewed these mountains I felt a secret pleasure in thus finding myself so near the head of the hitherto conceived boundless Missouri; but when I reflected on the difficulties which this snowey barrier would most probably throw in my way to the Pacific, and the sufferings and hardships of myself and party in them, it in some measure counterballanced the joy I had felt in the first moments in which I gazed on them; but as I have always held it a crime to anticipate evils I will believe it a good comfortable road until I am compelled to believe differently."
Progress grew increasingly hard. Rapids were numerous, over which the boats could not be urged with oars; so the men were compelled to walk upon the banks, drawing the craft with tow-lines. These lines were made mostly of elk-skin, which became softened and rotted by the water and often broke under the strain, causing many accidents of a trying and serious nature. The banks were sometimes so rocky and precipitous as to afford no foothold; then the men took to the water, wading, swimming, making headway as they could. One extract from the journals will illustrate the severity of their toil:—
"May 31st [a rainy day]. Obstructions continue, and fatigue the men excessively. The banks are so slippery in some places, and the mud so adhesive, that they are unable to wear their moccasins; one fourth of the time they are obliged to be up to their arm-pits in the cold water, and sometimes they walk for several hours over the sharp fragments of rocks which have fallen from the hills. All this, added to the burden of dragging the heavy canoes, is very painful; yet the men bear it with great patience and good humour."
On June 3d they came to a point where the river forked; and here, as the forks were of nearly equal volume, they were in doubt as to their route. Captain Lewis wrote:—
"On our right decision much of the fate of the expedition depends; since if, after ascending to the Rocky Mountains or beyond them, we should find that the river we were following did not come near the Columbia, and be obliged to return, we should not only be losing the traveling season, two months of which have already elapsed, but probably dishearten the men so much as to induce them either to abandon the enterprise, or yield us a cold obedience, instead of the warm and zealous support which they have hitherto afforded us.... The fatigues of the last few days have occasioned some falling off in the appearance of the men; who, not having been able to wear their moccasins, have had their feet much bruised and mangled in passing over the stones and rough ground. They are, however, perfectly cheerful, and have an undiminished ardor for the expedition."
In order to settle the doubt, the officers took each one branch of the stream and proceeded to explore it for some distance above the confluence, to determine its direction. Captain Lewis, ascending the northern fork, became convinced that it was not the main stream; and to it he gave the name, which it still bears, of Maria's River. His warmth of youth speaks in this paragraph:
"I determined to give it a name and in honour of Miss Maria W—d [Maria Wood, his cousin] called it Maria's River. It is true that the hue of the waters of this turbulent and troubled stream but illy comport with the pure celestial virtues and amiable qualifications of that lovely fair one; but on the other hand it is a noble river; one destined to become in my opinion an object of contention between the two great powers of America and Great Britin, with rispect to the adjustment of the North westwardly boundary of the former; and that it will become one of the most interesting branches of the Missouri."
Meanwhile, Captain Clark had gone far enough along the southern fork to satisfy himself that that was the proper course; and when he rejoined Captain Lewis at the confluence, preparations were made for continuing the journey. It was then clear that the burdens of the men must be lightened; accordingly, considerable quantities of merchandise, ammunition, etc., were buried in the earth, or "cached," after a method often followed by travelers of the West; care being taken to preserve the stores against moisture. One of the periogues also was left at this place, securely hidden.
While this work was going on, Captain Lewis, with several of the men, proceeded to explore the southern stream more minutely, seeking to devise means for passing the cañon at the mouth of which the party was encamped. June 13th he heard in the distance the roar of the Great Falls of the Missouri; and, after pushing on for several miles, he stood at the foot of the lower cascade. Relying upon descriptions which had been given by the Indians at the Mandan villages, he now felt assured that the right way had been chosen.
He seated himself before the roaring sheet of water, and endeavored to put a description of it upon paper; but then he added helplessly:—
"After wrighting this imperfect description I again viewed the falls and was so much disgusted with the imperfect idea which it conveyed of the scene that I determined to draw my pen across it and begin agin, but then reflected that I could not perhaps succeed better than penning the first impressions of the mind; I wished for the pencil of a Salvator Rosa, or the pen of a Thompson, that I might be enabled to give to the enlightened world some just idea of this truly magnificent and sublimely grand object, which has from the commencement of time been concealed from the view of civilized man; but this was fruitless and vain. I most sincerely regreted that I had not brought a chimeeobscura with me by the assistance of which I could have hoped to have done better but alas this was also out of my reach; I therefore, with my pen only endeavored to trace some of the stronger features of this seen by the assistance of which and my recollection aided by some able pencil I hope still to give to the world some fain idea of an object which at this moment fills me with such pleasure and astonishment."
On the next day he went ahead, alone, and discovered that this was but the first of a long series of cascades, extending for many miles up the cañon. It was a day of excitement. While returning to rejoin his party, he suffered his gun to remain for a time unloaded; in this plight he was surprised by a grizzly bear. Cut off from any other retreat, he was forced to take to the water, in which he stood to the depth of his armpits, facing the brute upon the bank and preparing to defend himself in a hand-to-hand struggle; but, in a manner wholly out of keeping with his family traditions, the grizzly was content to walk away without attacking. Proceeding about nightfall, the young officer encountered a strange beast, probably a wolverine, which showed fight; and a little later he was charged by three bulls from a herd of buffalo. Upon waking the next morning, he found a large rattlesnake coiled about the trunk of the tree beneath which he had slept.
CHAPTER VII
OVER THE CONTINENTAL DIVIDE
A messenger was sent back to Captain Clark, detailing what had been discovered, and giving such instructions as would best enable him to bring up the boats. It is now Captain Clark's turn to bear testimony to the spirit of the men:—
"June 15th.... Proceeded with great difficulty, in consequence of the increased rapidity of the current. The channel is constantly obstructed by rocks and dangerous rapids. During the whole progress, the men are in the water holding the canoes, and walking on sharp rocks and round stones, which cut their feet or cause them to fall. Rattlesnakes are so numerous that the men are constantly on their guard against being bitten by them; yet they bear the fatigues with the most undiminished cheerfulness."
The severest labor was necessary in making a portage of the falls. The remaining periogue was abandoned, the canoes only being carried on. To accomplish this, a large cottonwood tree was felled, its trunk being cut into short sections to serve as wheels for improvised carriages; the mast of the periogue, cut into lengths, being used as axles. Before these carriages could be utilized, it was necessary for the men to carry the canoes and baggage upon their shoulders to the level plains above the cañon walls, where Captain Clark had marked out with stakes the easiest path for a portage. This was a trying labor; and the portage itself was not less laborious. The journal says:—
"Here [on the plains above the river] they all repaired their moccasins, and put on double soles to protect them from the prickly-pear, and from the sharp points of earth which have been formed by the trampling of the buffalo during the late rains. This of itself is enough to render the portage disagreeable to one who has no burden; but as the men are loaded as heavily as their strength will permit, the crossing is really painful. Some are limping with the soreness of their feet; others are scarcely able to stand for more than a few minutes, from the heat and fatigue. They are all obliged to halt and rest frequently; at almost every stopping-place they fall, and most of them are asleep in an instant; yet no one complains, and they go on with great cheerfulness."
Notwithstanding this hardship, Lewis's journal entry of June 25th has this fine bit:—
"Such as were able to shake a foot amused themselves in dancing on the green to the music of the violin, which Cruzatte plays extremely well."
Captain Lewis had brought along in the baggage a steel skeleton or framework for a boat, thirty-six feet in length, which he had planned to use in shallow water. It was to be completed by stretching over the steel ribs a covering of skins, making the whole water-tight by any means that might be at hand. This was the place for the experiment. Much time was spent in collecting and curing skins, which, when fitted to the frame, were smeared with a composition of tallow, beeswax, and charcoal. This failed, however. As soon as the mixture dried, it fell away in flakes, and the vessel was entirely worthless. But Lewis wrote that "the boat in every other rispect completely answers my most sanguine expectations"! Then the men were employed for some time in making "dugout" canoes from cottonwood logs,—a weary labor, considering the tools they had. Not until July 15th was the long interruption ended, and the journey resumed.
July 25th Captain Clark, who was in advance of the main party, discovered the three forks of the Missouri, which were named the Jefferson, Madison, and Gallatin rivers. By the westernmost of these, the Jefferson, they proceeded, keeping a careful lookout for Indians.
"July 27th [Mr. Biddle's edition of the journals]. We are now very anxious to see the Snake Indians. After advancing for several hundred miles into this wild and mountainous country, we may soon expect that the game will abandon us. With no information of the route, we may be unable to find a passage across the mountains when we reach the head of the river—at least, such a pass as will lead us to the Columbia. Even are we so fortunate as to find a branch of that river, the timber which we have hitherto seen in these mountains does not promise us any fit to make canoes, so that our chief dependence is on meeting some tribe from whom we may procure horses. Our consolation is that this southwest branch can scarcely head with any other river than the Columbia; and if any nation of Indians can live in the mountains we are able to endure as much as they can, and have even better means of procuring subsistence."
By the first days of August this fear for the scarcity of game had become a reality; they were getting beyond the summer range of deer and buffalo, which had been their chief reliance. Through their long season of toil they had been plentifully fed; but they were now to know the pains of hunger, and the ills which follow upon a meagre diet. The hunters were daily reporting increasingly bad luck in the chase; some days would yield nothing; upon other days the camp would heartily welcome an owl, an eagle, or a bag of insignificant small birds of any sort, or even a wolf—anything that had flesh on its bones.
But these deprivations did not one whit abate the zeal for discovery. About this time they found the Jefferson River to be formed by three minor streams, to which they gave the names of Philosophy, Philanthropy, and Wisdom rivers, "in commemoration of those cardinal virtues which have so eminently marked that deservedly selibrated character." It is a pity to record that this complimentary intention was thwarted by time; but Philosophy is now known as Willow Creek, Wisdom is now the Big Hole, and Philanthropy bears the hard name of Stinking Water.
Since leaving Fort Mandan, in the preceding April, they had seen no Indians. They were now somewhat reassured by Sacajawea, the "Bird Woman," who said that they were nearing the site of her old home with the Snakes. She was as anxious as they for a meeting with her people, which she told them must soon occur. But anxiety increased as the days passed, and on the 9th of August Captain Lewis, accompanied by several of the men, set out in advance of the rest, "with a resolution to meet some nation of Indians before they returned, however long they might be separated from the party."
Three days later the stream, along which their route had lain for so long, was shrunken to such a width that one of the men was able to stand with his feet upon opposite banks; and in that posture he thanked God that he had lived to bestride the Missouri. Within a little time they drank from the icy spring that gave the rivulet its birth. They then stood upon the crest of the great Continental Divide, on the boundary between the present States of Montana and Idaho. They had run the mighty Missouri to its lair!
As if that were not satisfaction enough for one day, they went forward for three fourths of a mile, and there "reached a handsome, bold creek of cold, clear water, running to the westward." Stooping, they drank of the waters of the Lemhi River, one of the upper branches of the Columbia.
On the following day, as they were tracing the course of this stream, they observed two women, a man, and some dogs, stationed upon the summit of a hill at the distance of a mile. Captain Lewis advanced, unarmed, displaying a flag. The women retreated at once; and the man, after waiting until Lewis had approached to within a hundred paces, also disappeared in the thick brush. After following the trail for a mile, they came suddenly upon three Indian women. One of these made her escape; but the others, an old dame and a child, seated themselves upon the ground and bowed their heads, as though expecting to be put to death forthwith. Captain Lewis advanced, took the older woman by the hand and raised her to her feet, at the same time displaying the white skin of his arm,—for exposure had tanned his face and hands as dark as those of the natives themselves. He then gave them some trinkets, and the other woman being recalled, he painted the faces of the three with vermilion, an act understood by all Indians as signifying pacific intentions. While he was thus engaged, sixty mounted Shoshone warriors galloped up, armed and voicing their war-cry, thinking to do battle with Minnetaree foes, for whom they had mistaken the whites. They were overjoyed upon discovering the identity of their visitors, saluted them heartily, smoked with them the pipe of peace, and offered such entertainment as they had. They were without food, excepting some indifferent cakes made from service-berries and choke-cherries, dried in the sun.
To secure the friendly regard of these people, Captain Lewis tried to induce some of them to return with him to the point where he was to rejoin Captain Clark and the others, saying that the main party was bringing merchandise for trade; and he was at last successful in getting a goodly escort.
When he met with the men of the main party, they were still toiling heavily up the narrow channel of the Missouri, dragging the canoes. Sacajawea at once recognized the members of her tribe. A woman of the band ran forward to meet her, and they embraced with signs of extravagant joy, for they had been playmates in childhood.
"While Sacajawea was renewing among the women the friendships of former days," says the journal, "Captain Clark went on, and was received by Captain Lewis and the chief, who, after the first embraces and salutations were over, conducted him to a sort of circular tent or shade of willows. Here he was seated on a white robe, and the chief immediately tied in his hair six small shells resembling pearls, an ornament highly valued by these people, who procure them in the course of trade from the seacoast. The moccasins of the whole party were then taken off, and after much ceremony the smoking began. After this the conference was to be opened. Glad of an opportunity of being able to converse more intelligibly, they sent for Sacajawea, who came into the tent, sat down, and was beginning to interpret, when in the person of Cameawait (the chief) she recognized her brother. She instantly jumped up and ran and embraced him, throwing over him her blanket, and weeping profusely. The chief was himself moved, though not in the same degree. After some conversation between them, she resumed her seat and attempted to interpret for us; but her new situation seemed to overpower her, and she was frequently interrupted by tears."
CHAPTER VIII
THE LAST STAGE OF THE WESTWARD JOURNEY
Should a water route be taken from the Shoshone villages, it would be necessary to descend the Lemhi to Salmon River; the Salmon would conduct them to the Snake, and that to the Columbia. But they were told that this course was impracticable. The Lemhi flowed in an ungovernable torrent through wild cañons which the hardiest adventurers from this tribe had never succeeded in passing. The description given by the Indians of the land route over the mountains was hardly more reassuring. The easiest trail to be found would be rough in the extreme, strewn with rocks; besides, snow would soon fall upon the heights of the mountains, burying the trail many feet deep, and perhaps rendering it impassable. The greatest cause for uneasiness lay in the inevitable scarcity of food. Even should a crossing of the mountains be effected, the men would be obliged to subsist for many days largely or wholly upon such roots as they could dig by the way. Of the provisions brought from St. Louis,—flour and canned stuff,—there remained barely enough to suffice for ten days' emergency rations; and of course they could not hope to find game upon the barren mountains, particularly at that season of the year. They were just entering upon their severest trials.
Captain Clark went ahead to reconnoitre, and found that the Indians had rather understated the difficulties of the water route. To descend the Lemhi was entirely out of the question. Clark dispatched a messenger to Captain Lewis, telling of what he had discovered, and wrote in his journal (August 24th):—
"The plan I stated to Captain Lewis if he agrees with me we shall adopt is to precure as many horses (one for each man) if possable and to hire my present guide who I sent on to him to interegate thro' the Intptr. and proceed on by land to some navagable part of the Columbia river, or to the Ocean, depending on what provisions we can Precure by the gun aded to the small stock we have on hand depending on our horses as the last resort."
While he was writing so calmly of his plan, he and his men were suffering from hunger, having only a meagre supply of fish and dried berries. A day or two later he wrote:—
"These Indians, to whom this life is familiar, seem contented, although they depend for subsistence on the scanty provisions of the fishery. But our men, who are used to hardships, but have been accustomed to have the first wants of Nature regularly supplied, feel very sensibly their wretched situation; their strength is wasting away; they begin to express their apprehensions of being without food in a country perfectly destitute of any means of supporting life, except a few fish."
Horses were purchased from the Shoshones, and the men were employed in making pack-saddles. As there was no timber to be obtained near by, the oars were cut up for boards, and these were fastened into form with thongs of rawhide. With the best provision that could be made, however, it was apparent that a considerable portion of the baggage must be cached and left behind. At a time when the needs of the men would be greatest, they were obliged to provide themselves with least.
The Shoshones were hospitable and kindly folk. Throughout these days of preparation, the women were engaged in making and repairing moccasins and clothing for the men, and the fishermen gave to them a good share of the daily catch. Nor was the kindness all upon the one side. The white hunters, with their guns, had greater success than the Indians, who were armed only with bows and arrows and lances. Share and share alike was the rule in the village. Once when the hunters brought in a deer, Captain Clark directed that it be given to the women and children, who were in an extremity of hunger, and himself went supperless to bed.
One of the older men was induced to accompany them as a guide. By the middle of September they were deep in the mountains, and also deep in peril and suffering. The cold had a depressing effect upon the men, overworked and underfed as they were. For several days they got along somehow, with a few odds and ends of small game; but on the 14th of September, Captain Clark's prevision was fulfilled, and they were reduced to supping upon the flesh of one of their ponies. Then on the next day,—
"September 15th. Camped near an old snow-bank, some of which was melted, in the absence of water; and here the party supped on the remains of the colt killed yesterday. Our only game to-day was two pheasants; the horses, on which we calculated as a last resource, began to fail us, for two of them were so poor and worn out with fatigue that we were obliged to leave them behind.
"September 16th. Three hours before daybreak it began to snow, and continued all day, so that by evening it was six or eight inches deep. This covered the track so completely that we were obliged constantly to halt and examine, lest we should lose the route. In many places we had nothing to guide us, except the branches of the trees, which, being low, had been rubbed by the burdens of the Indian horses.... Wet to the skin, and so cold that we were anxious lest our feet should be frozen, as we had only thin moccasins to defend them.... We camped on a piece of low ground, thickly timbered, but scarcely large enough to permit us to lie level. We had now made thirteen miles. We were all very wet, cold, and hungry.... Were obliged to kill a second colt for our supper."
Of the stock of portable provisions there remained only a few cans of soup and about twenty pounds of bear's oil; and there was "no living creature in these mountains, except a few pheasants, a small species of gray squirrel, and a blue bird of the vulture kind about the size of a turtle-dove or jay; even these are difficult to shoot."
Again Captain Clark went ahead. For several days he suffered extremely from hunger and exposure; but on the 20th he descended into an open valley, where he came upon a band of Nez Percé Indians, who gave him food. But after his long abstinence, when he ate a plentiful meal of fish his stomach revolted, and for several days he was quite ill.
Matters fared badly with Captain Lewis's party, following on Clark's trail. On the day of Clark's departure, they could not leave their night's camp until nearly noon, "because, being obliged in the evening to loosen our horses to enable them to find subsistence, it is always difficult to collect them in the morning.... We were so fortunate as to kill a few pheasants and a prairie wolf, which, with the remainder of the horse, supplied us with one meal, the last of our provisions; our food for the morrow being wholly dependent on the chance of our guns." Bearing heavy burdens, and losing much time with the continued straying of the horses, they made but indifferent progress, and it was not until the 22d that they reached the Nez Percé village and joined Captain Clark. Then they, too, almost to a man, suffered severe illness, caused by the unwonted abundance of food. From the high altitudes and the scant diet of horseflesh to the lower levels of the valley and a plentiful diet of fish and camass-root was too great a change.
Two of the men in particular had cause to remember those days. They had been sent back to find and bring on some of the horses that were lost. Failing to find the animals, after a long search, they started to overtake their companions. They had no provisions, nor could they find game of any kind. Death by starvation was close upon them, when they found the head of one of the horses that had been killed by their mates. The head had been thrown aside as worthless; but to these two it was a veritable godsend. It was at once roasted, and from the flesh and gristle of the lips, ears, and cheeks they made a meal which saved their lives.
The Nez Percé villages were situated upon a stream called the Kooskooskee, or Clearwater, which the Indians said was navigable for canoes throughout its lower lengths; so, on September 26th, the party established itself at a point upon the river where a supply of timber could be had, and began canoe-making. In this they adopted the Indian method of hollowing large logs into form by means of fire; and in ten days' time they had made five serviceable boats, and were ready for departure. Meanwhile, they had relied upon the Indians for a daily supply of food, and this had made a considerable reduction of their stock of merchandise for barter. The Nez Percés of that and neighboring villages kept a large number of dogs, which were used as beasts of burden and otherwise, but were not eaten. The travelers bought some of these for food, and found them palatable and nutritious; but this practice excited the ridicule of the savages, who gave to the whites the name Dog-Eaters,—an odd reversal of the condition of to-day. The men were proof against scorn, however, so long as the supply of dog-meat held out; and when they were ready to embark, they bought as many dogs as they could carry, to be eaten on the voyage.
There was no reason to complain of the Nez Percés. There was a noticeable difference, though, between the people of the several villages. Some were generous and high-minded to a degree rarely equaled by the members of any race, while others were shrewd tradesmen only. All seemed worthy of confidence, which was well; for it was necessary to put confidence in them. The horses that had been bought from the Shoshones and brought across the mountains had now to be left behind, and they were surrendered to the care of one of the principal chiefs, to be kept by him until they should be reclaimed upon the return from the coast, at some indefinite time in the future. He discharged this trust with perfect fidelity. Had he failed, the consequences would have been disastrous.
On October 16th, after a rapid passage of the Kooskooskee, the party entered the Columbia; and from that point to the Pacific the journey was without particular adventure, save for the difficulty of passing numerous rapids and cascades. Indian villages were everywhere upon the banks; but their people were of a very low order,—very jackals of humanity; dirty, flea-bitten packs, whose physical and moral constitutions plainly showed the debilitating effects of unnumbered generations of fish-eating, purposeless life. Physical and moral decency usually go hand in hand, even in a state of nature. The Columbia tribes had no conception of either; they were in the same condition then as now, mean-spirited, and strangers to all those little delicacies of behavior that had distinguished the mountain tribes.
The passage of the Narrows, above the Falls of the Columbia, trusting to their fire-hollowed logs, demanded much daring and self-possession. Captain Clark wrote:—
"As the portage of our canoes over this high rock would be impossible with our Strength, and the only danger in passing thro those narrows was the whorls and swills arriseing from the compression of the water, and which I thought (as also our principal waterman Peter Crusat) by good stearing we could pass down safe, accordingly I deturmined to pass through this place, not with standing the horred appearance of this agitated gut swelling, boiling & whorling in every direction which from the top of the rock did not appear as bad as when I was in it; however we passed safe to the astonishment of the Inds."
At other times they were not so successful in this sort of undertaking. The canoes were often overset in the swift water, by being caught in whirlpools or colliding with rocks, causing great inconvenience and resulting in some serious losses of baggage. And the men were performing this arduous labor upon a diet of dog-meat, and almost nothing besides.
No matter what difficulties presented themselves from day to day, the officers never lost sight of the chief purpose of their toils. The journals of those days are replete with keen notes upon the country, its resources, and its people. Soon after passing the Falls, there were to be seen occasional signs of previous intercourse between the Indians and the white traders who had visited the coast,—the squaws would display a bit of colored cloth in their costumes; a few of the men carried ancient guns, and occasionally one was decorated with a ruinous old hat or the remains of a sailor's pea-jacket. These poor people had touched the hem of the garment of civilization, and had felt some of its meaner virtue pass into them. They showed daily less and less of barbaric manliness; they were becoming from day to day more vicious, thievish, and beggarly. The whites had as yet given them nothing worth having, and had taught them nothing worth knowing. This was but natural, considering the character of those who had visited the Columbia region. They were not missionaries nor philanthropists, actuated by high desires, but traders pure and simple, with no thought but gain, and no scruples about means. They were not different from the pioneers of trade in all times and all places.
November 6th there was a meeting with an Indian who spoke a few scrappy words of English; and on the 7th, a day of rain and fog, the men caught a far glimpse of the Pacific, ... "that ocean, the object of all our labors, the reward of all our anxieties. This cheering view exhilarated the spirits of all the party, who were still more delighted on hearing the distant roar of the breakers." The following day, as the boats proceeded upon the waters of the inlet, the waves ran so high that several of the men were made sea-sick.
After eighteen months of unparalleled perseverance, the westward journey was done.