To the Land of the Sioux

"Fust we have to pass the Sioux Injuns," explained Patrick Gass, to Peter. "Ye know the Sioux?"

"They bad," nodded Peter. "Fight other Injuns."

"Yis," said Patrick. "But we aim to make everybody paceful with everybody else. An' after the Sioux, we talk with the 'Rikaras."

"'Rees bad, too," nodded Peter. For the Otoes were afraid of the northern tribes.

"Yis," said Patrick. "An' after the 'Rikaras we come, I'm thinkin', to the Mandans, an' by that time 'twill be winter, an' with the Mandans we'll stay. I hear tell they have white skins an' blue eyes an' their hair trails on the ground."

Sometimes sailing, sometimes rowed, and sometimes towed by heavy ropes on which the men hauled, from the banks, the three boats had been steadily advancing up-river. Peter was feeling quite at home. Everybody was kind to him—especially Pat, who had been elected sergeant in place of Charles Floyd, and young George Shannon, who was only seventeen.

Two horses followed the boats, by land, for the use of the hunters. George Drouillard, a Frenchman, who had lived with the Omahas, was chief hunter. At the evening camps Pierre Cruzatte, a merry Frenchman with only one eye, and a soldier by the name of George Gibson, played lively music on stringed boxes called violins. Each night the two captains, and Pat and other soldiers, wrote on paper the story of the trip. York, the black man, was Captain Clark's servant. Early in the morning a horn was blown to arouse the camp. During the days the captains frequently went ashore, to explore.

It was well, thought Peter, that Pierre Dorion, a trader who lived with the Sioux, was aboard the boats, for the fierce Sioux Indians did not like strangers. Still, who could whip the United States?

In the afternoon of the eighth day after leaving Chief Little Thief, old Pierre, from where he was standing with the two captains on the barge and gazing right and left and before, cried aloud and pointed.

"Dere she is!"

"What, Dorion?"

"De Jacques, w'at is also call de Yankton River; my people de Yankton Sioux lif on her. Mebbe soon now we see some."

The barge, flying its white peace flag, bordered with red and blue, ploughed on. All eyes aboard were directed intently before. The mouth of the river gradually opened, amidst the trees.

"We'll halt there for dinner," ordered Captain Lewis. "That looks like a good landing-place just above the mouth, Will.*

Captain Clark nodded, and the barge began to veer in; the two pirogues or smaller boats imitated.

"I see one Injun," said Peter. "You see him, Pat?"

"Where, now?" invited Patrick Gass.

"He is standing still; watch us, this side of Yankton River."

"Faith, you've sharp eyes," praised Pat, squinting. "Yis, sure I see him, by the big tree just above the mouth."

Others saw him. And as the barge hove to, and led by Captain Clark the men leaped for the shore, to cook dinner, the Indian plunged into the water and swam across.

"'Maha!" quoth Peter, quickly, when, dripping, the Indian had plashed out and was boldly entering the camp.

"Oh, is he, now?" murmured Patrick Gass.

Pierre Dorion translated for him, to the captains. He said that he was an Omaha boy, living with the Sioux. While he was talking, two other Indians came in. They indeed were Sioux—straight, dark, and dignified, as befitted members of a great and powerful nation.

"Dey say de Yanktons, many of dem, are camp' to de west, one short travel," interpreted Dorion. "Dey haf hear of our comin', an' will be please' to meet de white chiefs."

"All right, Dorion. You go to the camp with these fellows, and tell the chiefs that we'll hold council at the river. I'll send Sergeant Pryor and another man along with you," instructed Captain Lewis. "You'll find us again about opposite where their camp is."

"Good," approved Pierre Dorion. "Now mebbe I get my wife an' fam'ly one time more. My son, he dere, too, say dese young men." For Pierre had married a Sioux woman.

The two Sioux, and Pierre, and Sergeant Nathaniel Pryor and Private John Potts left on foot for the camp of the Yanktons; but the Omaha boy stayed. Peter preferred to keep away from him. The Omahas, to him, were not to be trusted.

From the mouth of the Yankton River, which is to-day called the James River of South Dakota, the boats continued on up the Missouri, to the council ground. The red pirogue ran upon a snag, so that it almost sank before it could be beached. Then all the goods had to be transferred to the white pirogue. This took time, and it was not until nearly sunset that Captain Lewis ordered landing to be made and camp pitched.

The camp of the Sioux was supposed to be somewhere across the river. In the morning no Sioux had yet appeared for council, and Captain Lewis anxiously swept the country to the north with his spy-glass. However, Indians could not be hurried, as Peter well knew. But about four o'clock there spread a murmur.

"Here they come!"

"De Sioux! Dey come. Now for beeg talk an' beeg dance! Hoo-zah!"

"Oui!" added George Drouillard, the hunter. "Mebbe fat dog feast, too!"

"Oh, murther! gasped Pat. And, to Peter: "Did ye ever eat dog, Peter?"

Peter shook his head, disgusted. Not he; nor the Otoes, either. Only the northern Indians ate dog.

"There's a t'arin' lot of 'em, anyhow," mused Patrick Gass. "I'm after wishin' George was here.' Sure, he's like to get into trouble, wanderin' about the country where all those fellows are."

For two days back George Shannon had been sent out to find the horses that had strayed from camp, and he had not returned.

The Sioux made a brave sight indeed. They looked to be almost a hundred—ahorse and afoot, with gay streamers and blankets flying. Pierre Dorion and Sergeant Pryor and Private Potts were to be seen, mounted and riding with the principal chiefs in the advance. So evidently everything was all right.

They halted on the bank opposite the. United States camp. Sergeant Pryor waved his hat, and the captains send the red pirogue across for him. He and Pierre and Private Potts returned in it. They brought with them young Pierre, who was old Pierre's 'son. He was half Sioux, and traded among the Tetons; but just now he was visiting among the Yanktons.

"They are friendly, are they, Sergeant?" inquired Captain Lewis.

"Yes, sir. They treated us very handsomely, and the head chief is yonder, waiting to talk with you," informed Sergeant Pryor.

"Very good. You and young Dorion go back to them—we'd better send along some presents, hadn't we, Will?—and tell the chiefs that we'll speak with them in the morning. 'Twon't do to let them think we're in any more of a hurry than they are."

"Yes, sir," answered Sergeant Pryor.

He took over presents of corn and tobacco and iron kettles, with young Pierre to do the translating for him, and returned. Both camps settled down for the night.

"Did yez have a rale good time with the Sioux, Nat?" queried Patrick Gass, *that night around the fire, after a hearty supper on cat-fish. During the day a number of huge cat-fish had been caught, some of them weighing sixty pounds. Now all, the men were curious to hear more from Nat Pryor and John Potts.

"Tremendous," declared Nat. "They wanted to carry us into camp in a blanket, but we told 'em we were not chiefs. They could wait and carry the captains. They gave us a fat dog, though, boiled in a pot—and I swear he was good eating."

"None for me, thank ye," retorted Sergeant Pat. "An' how far is their camp, an' what kind is it?"

"It's about nine miles back, near the Jacques. All fine buffalo hide lodges—some elk hide, too—painted different colors. Fact is, they're about the best Indians we've met yet."

"Ye didn't learn anything of Shannon or the horses, then?"

"Not a word. But I think he'll be safe if only the Sioux find him."

The next day dawned so foggy that nobody could see across the river. The captains made preparations for the grand council. A pole was set up, near to a large oak tree, and a new flag hoisted to the top of it. The flag was striped red and white; in a corner was a blue square, like the sky, studded with stars. 'Twas the great flag of the United States nation—and Peter thought it beautiful.

The two captains dressed in their best. Captain Lewis wore a long coat of dark blue trimmed with light blue, down its front bright brass buttons, and on its shoulders bright gold-fringed epaulets. Captain Clark's coat was dark blue faced with red; it, too, had the brass buttons and the bright epaulets. Both wore their cocked hats, and their long knives, or swords.

The men also were ordered to put on their best, and to clean up even if they had no "best." Presents were laid out. By the time the fog lifted, at eight o'clock, the camp was ready.

Now it could be seen that over in the Sioux camp, also, the chiefs and warriors were preparing.

"They're painting and polishing, Merne," remarked Captain Clark, who had leveled the spy-glass, to peer.

That was so. Peter needed no spy-glass. He could make out figures of the chiefs and warriors sitting and plaiting their hair and painting their faces and chests and arms.

The two captains waited until nearly noon. Then the red pirogue was dispatched, under Sergeant Pryor, accompanied by old Pierre, to bring the chiefs and warriors. The white pirogue was loaded with goods, but the red pirogue had been emptied for repairs. Even then the Sioux so crowded it that it scarcely could be rowed. A number of the young Sioux waded into the river and swam across.

Now there were more Sioux than white men in the United States camp. But they were armed mainly with bows and arrows, while the United States were armed with rifles; and Peters sharp eyes observed that the cannon in the bow of the barge was pointed right at the camp, ready for business.

Broad-chested and sinewy were these Yankton Sioux, and evidently great warriors. What struck Peter and the soldiers, especially, were the necklaces of claws stitched in bands of buckskin or red flannel, and hanging low on those broad chests. Many warriors wore them.

"D' you mean to say those are b'ar claws!" exclaimed John Shields, one of the Kentuckians.

"Oui, my frien'," assured Drouillard, the hunter. "Dey claw of great white bear—so we call heem. Beeg! More beeg dan one ox. An ’fraid? He not 'fraid of notting. To keel one white bear make Injun beeg warrior."

"And where do those critters live, then?" queried John.

"Up river. We meet 'em pret' queeck, now. Sometime w'en we land—woof! Dere coot one beastbeeg as one ox—mouth he open; an' mebbe eat us, if brush so t'ick we not see heem soon 'nough."

The listening Kentuckians and other soldiers scratched their heads, as if a little doubtful.

"Faith," said Patrick Gass, "some o' them claws are six inches long, boys. 'Tis a country o' monsters that we're goin' into."

A group of the Sioux had been staring at black York, who, larger than any of them, was gaping back. Suddenly one stepped to him, wet his finger and swiftly drew it down York's cheek; then looked to see if the black had come off.

"Hey, you man!" growled York. "Wha' foh you done do dat?"

Another Sioux deftly snatched off York's hat, and clutched the black curly wool underneath; but it would not come off, either. Much impressed, the circle widened respectfully, and Sioux murmured gutturally to Sioux.

"That's all right, York," warned Captain Clark, who had noted; for his own red hair had been attracting much attention. "They say you're great medicine."

"Oui; he black buffalo," affirmed young Dorion. After that York strutted importantly, alarmed the Indians by making fierce faces, and was followed about by a constant admiring procession.

The council was held at noon, under the great oak tree beside which floated the United States flag. The chiefs and the leading warriors sat in a half circle; the two captains sat facing them, Pierre Dorion stood before them as interpreter; and the soldiers and French boatmen sat behind in another half circle.

Captain Lewis made a welcoming speech—and a fine figure he was, standing straight and slim, in his tight-fitting, decorated coat, his cocked hat with black feather, his sword at his side.

"The land has changed white fathers," he said. "The great nation of the Sioux, and all the other Indians, have a new white father, at Washington. That is his flag, the flag of the United States nation, which has bought this country. The new father has sent us, who are his children, to tell his red children that he wants them to be at peace with one another. I have given flags and peace gifts to the Otoes and the Missouris, and have sent word to the Osages and the Omahas and the Pawnees and the Kickapoos and other. Indians, that there must be no more wars among the red children. I will give you a flag and gifts, too, so that you will remember what I say."

Then the gifts were distributed. To the head chief, Weucha, or Shake Hand, a flag, and a first-grade silver medal, and a per that certified the United States recognized him as the head chief, and a string of beads and shells, and a "chief's coat," which was a red-trimmed artillery dress-coat like Captain Clark's, and a cocked hat with red feather in it. Weucha was immensely pleased; he put on the coat and hat at once.

The four other chiefs also went given gifts. Chief Weucha produced a long peace-pipe of red stone, with reed stem; it was lighted, he puffed, Captain Lewis and Captain Clark puffed; the four lesser chiefs puffed. After that the chiefs solemnly shook hands with the captains, and withdrew into a lean-to of branches, to consult on what they should reply to-morrow.

The Sioux stayed at the camp during the afternoon. The captains gave them a dressed deer-hide and an empty keg, for a dance drum. The deer-hide was stretched taut over the head of the keg; and that night, by the light of the fires, the Sioux thumped on the drum and shook their rattles, and danced. One-eyed Cruzatte and George Gibson played on their violins, and the United States warriors danced. But the Sioux kept it up almost all night, and nobody got much sleep.

In the morning after breakfast Weucha and his three sub-chiefs sat before the oak tree; each held a peace pipe in front of him, with the stem pointing at the spot where the captains were to sit. The names of the other chiefs were White Crane, Struck-by-the-Pawnee, and Half Man.

"He ver' modes'," explained One-eyed Cruzatte. "He say 'I am no warrior, I only half a man." Weucha spoke first, standing clad in his artillery coat and cocked hat. He said that the Yanktons were willing to be at peace, but were very poor.

White Crane, and Struck-by-the-Pawnee and Half Man likewise spoke. They agreed with what Shake Hand had said. They wanted powder and ball, and their great father's "milk"—which was whisky.

That evening the Sioux went back, across the river, well satisfied. Pierre Dorion and young Pierre went with them. Old Pierre promised that in the spring he would take some of the chiefs to Washington, that they might meet their new father.

Just as the Yanktons were leaving, Captain Lewis beckoned Peter to him.

"You had better go with Pierre. He will take you down river in the spring, if not before."

"No, please," objected Peter. "I rather stay."

"But we're going clear to the Pacific Ocean, my boy," spoke Captain Clark. "It will be a hard trip."

"I will go, too," declared Peter. "Do not want to stay with Sioux. I am white."

"What will you do, along with us, Peter?"

"I work. I can talk sign language," answered Peter, proudly.

"There's something in that, Merne," laughed Captain Clark. "Now with Dorion gone we'll need an interpreter to help Drouillard. I fancy Peter knows almost as much as he does."

"You've got a kind heart, Will," replied Captain Lewis, his eyes softening. "But game's plenty; we'll have meat enough—and that's the main question. All right, Peter. You can come as far as the Mandan village, anyway. And in the spring we'll see."

Whereupon Peter resolved that he would make himself useful, so that they would take him clear to the Pacific Ocean, which lay, according to Patrick Gass and the other men, many, many days' travel, far beyond the western mountains.