Snug in Winter Quarters

The weather had grown much colder, with squalls of snow and sleet and high winds; the wild geese were flying high, headed into the south; and the river, falling rapidly, was split with bars and narrow channels, when, two weeks after the punishment of John Newman, the barge and the two pirogues anchored off the first of the Mandan villages, in the centre of present North Dakota.

"Five long months we've been travelin', an' for sixteen hundred crooked miles," quoth Patrick Gass. "Sure we desarve a bit o' rist. Now what will the Mandans say, I wonder?"

"Did you see that young fellow who'd lost the halves of two fingers?" queried George Shannon. "Well, he'd cut 'em off, on purpose, because some of his relatives had died! That's the Mandan way of going into mourning."

"'Twould be better to cut the hair, I'm thinkin'," said Pat. "They most of 'em nade it—a n' hair'll grow again."

The Mandans had swarmed aboard, and were examining every object with much curiosity. They were an odd people, wrinkled and of low stature—many of the women with brown hair, but others with gray hair which flared almost to the ground. However, their voices were gentle, and they brought gifts of corn and vegetables, in earthen jars.

Mr. Jessaume, a French trader among them, also came aboard; so did a Scotchman named Hugh McCracken, from a British fur company post far north.

"They're frindly, be they, Pierre?" asked Pat, of One-eyed Cruzatte, who was hobbling past after a lively conversation with Mr. Jessaume.

"Oui," answered Cruzatte, with a grimace of pain. "I t'ink we stay an' spen' one winter. Dey glad. We protect' dem 'gainst de Sioux. My poor leg, he carry me not furder, anyway."

For Cruzatte had the rheumatism in both knees. Reuben Fields was laid up with the rheumatism in his neck; and Captain Clark had been so bothered with a stiff neck that he could not move around until Captain Lewis had applied a hot stone wrapped in red flannel.

"Hi!" cackled big York, strutting as usual. "Dese heah Mandans done gif me name Great Medicine, Mistuh McCracken say. Dey wants me foh a chief."

"There's coal in the banks, yonder," spoke George Shannon. "See it, Peter?"

"What is coal?" ventured Peter.

"Black stuff, like a rock, that will burn."

"It'll make fine fuel for my forge," put in John Shields, who was clever at fashioning things out of metal. "Expect I'll be busy all winter, smithing, while you other fellows are hunting and dancing."

The Mandan villages were three in number. There was a village of Minnetarees, also; and a village of Ar-wa-cah-was and Ah-na-ha-ways—Indians whom neither Drouillard nor Cruzatte knew.

"Ah, well, now, belike there be plenty Injuns on ahead, too, that ye never heard of," declared Pat. "Yis, an' lots of other cur'osities before we get to the Paycific Ocean."

The head chief of all the Mandans was Pos-capsa-he, or Black Cat. The chief of the lowest village was Sha-ha-ka, or Big White. The chief of the second village was Raven Man. The chief of the Ar-wacah-was was White Buffalo Robe. The chief of the Ah-na-ha-ways was Cherry-on-a-Bush, or Little Cherry, but he was very old. The chief of the Minnetaree village was Black Moccasin. And the chief of the upper Mandan village, across from the Minnetaree village, was Red Shield.

The two captains met in council with all the villages together, and smoked the pipe of peace and distributed gifts. During the speeches old Cherry-on-a-Bush, the Ah-na-ha-way chief, rose to go, because, he said, his son was on the war-trail against the Sho-sho-nes, or Snakes, and his village was liable to be attacked.

"Shame on you, for an impolite old man," rebuked Sha-ha-ka, Big White. "Do you not know better than to show such bad manners before the chiefs from the great white father?"

And poor Cherry-on-a-Bush sat down mumbling.

The Ankara chief who had come up on the barge was well received. The Mandans promised to observe peace between the two nations.

"We did not begin the war," they said. "We have been killing those 'Rees like we kill birds, until we are tired of killing. Now we wilt send a chief to them, with this chief of theirs, and they can smoke peace."

Camp was made at a spot picked out by Captain Clark, across the river, below the first Mandan village, and everybody not on guard duty was set at work erecting winter quarters. Captain Clark had charge of the camp, but Patrick Gass "bossed "the work. He was a carpenter. Axes rang, trees were felled and under Patrick's direction were trimmed and notched, to form the walls and roofs of the cabins.

There were to be two rows of cabins, joined so as to make four rooms, below, on each side, and four rooms above, entered by ladders. The walls were of hewn logs tightly chinked with clay; and the ceilings, seven feet high, were of planks trimmed with adzes—and covered with grass and clay to make a warm floor for the lofts. The roofs slanted inward, which made the outside of the rows eighteen feet high, so that nobody could climb over. Every downstairs room had a fire-place, and a plank floor. The two rows met, at one end, and were open at the other; and across this opening was to be stretched a high fence of close, thick pickets, entered by a stout gate.

The Mandans and their Indian friends marveled much at the skill of the white men, and at the strength of York, the Great Medicine. They admitted that these white men's houses were better even than the Mandan lodges—although the Mandan lodges were also of heavy timbers, plastered with earth, and banked with earth at the bottoms; had doors of buffalo hide, and fireplaces in the middle.

Mr. Jessaume, the French trader, moved to the camp, with his Mandan wife and child; and so did another French trader named Toussaint Chaboneau. He had two wives: one was very old and ugly, but the other was young and handsome. She was a Sho-sho-ne girl, from far-off. The Minnetaree Indians had attacked her people and taken her captive, and Chaboneau had bought her as his wife. She and the old wife did not get along together very well.

Mr. Jessaume and Chaboneau could speak the languages, and were hired by the captains to be interpreters for the camp.

"My young wife come from ze Rock mountains," said Chaboneau—who was a dark little man, his wrinkled face like smoked leather. "One time I was dere. I trade with Minnetaree."

"You never were over the mountains, Toussaint, were you?" asked Sergeant Pryor.

"Me, Monsieur Sergeant?" And Toussaint shuddered. "Ma foi (my word), no! It is not ze possible. Up dere, no meat, no grass, no trail, notting but rock, ice, cold, an' ze terrible savages out for ze scalp."

The cabins were erected rapidly, for the cottonwood logs were soft and easily split. The first trees were felled on November 3, and on November 20 the walls were all in place. The men moved in before the roofs were put on, but buffalo hides were stretched over.

The two captains occupied one cabin, at the head of the angle. And six or seven men were assigned to each of the other cabins. Sergeant Patrick Gass, Privates George Shannon, Reuben Fields and Joseph Fields, who were great hunters, George Gibson, who played the violin, John Newman, who now was no longer mutinous, but worked with a will, and Peter formed one mess; Corporal Warfington and his six soldiers from St. Louis formed another; Drouillard, the hunter, and five of the French boatmen another; One-eyed Cruzatte and five other boatmen another; and so forth. Jessaume and Chaboneau had erected their own lodges.

It was high time that the cabins were completed. The weather turned very cold and windy, and ice floated in the river. The roofs were hastened, and the picket fence ought to be erected soon, for the Mandans were not yet satisfied with the presence of the white men.

Black Cat and Big White were frequent visitors. One day after Black Cat had spent the whole morning talking with the captains, Chaboneau reported the bad news.

"Mebbe now dere is troubles," he uttered, as he sat toasting his shins at the fire in the Patrick Gass cabin. He had entered with a gay "Bon soir (good evening), messieurs," and had brought a draft of icy air with him. "Mebbe now dere is troubles."

"What's the matter, Toussaint?"

"I interpret for ze Black Cat an' ze captains. Ze Black Cat say ze Sioux dey much enrage', 'cause ze 'Rees make ze peace with ze Mandan. Dey sen' ze word dat someday dey come up an' take ze scalp of all ze 'Ree an' ze Mandan an' ze white soldier. Dey sorry dey did not kill ze white soldier down-river, for ze white soldier carry bad talk. Black Cat fear. He fear mebbe ze 'Ree get scare' an' help ze Sioux, an' he been tol', too, dat ze white soldiers build strong fort, to stay an' try to make slaves of ze Mandan, an' soon ze whole country he be Sioux."

"That sounds like the British," remarked George Shannon. "They naturally don't want the United States in here, taking away their trade. They'd like to have us driven out."

"An' what did the captains say?" inquired Patrick Gass.

"Dey say Black Cat must not open heel ears to such talk," answered Toussaint. "Ze United States speak only truth, an' if ze Mandan listen ze white soldiers will protec' dem 'gainst all deir enemies. Black Cat say dere been a council held, on ze matter, an' ze Mandan will wait an' see."

Much was yet to be done before the fort was secure. The barge ought to be unloaded and its goods stored in the two store-cabins. The men in the Gass cabin spent their time evenings braiding a large rope of elk-skin, by which the barge might be hauled up on the bank, farther out of the ice. Big White and Little Raven and other chiefs and warriors brought meat, on the backs of their squaws. Big White's village was across the river, and he and his wife came over in their buffalo-hide boat. She followed him to the fort, with 100 pounds of meat at a time on her back. She was delighted with the gift of a hand-ax, with which to cut wood for the lodge fire. The captains presented the. Mandan nation with an iron mill for grinding corn. This pleased the women.

The weather turned warm, and Captain Lewis took a squad of men, to pay a visit to the villages. Only one chief was unfriendly. He, named Mah-pah-pa-para-pas-sa-too, or Horned Weasel, refused to see the captain at all.

"And we know the reason why," asserted Sergeant Pryor, who had been along. "Seven traders of the British Northwest Company have just come down with dog-sleds from the north country, and are giving out British flags and medals and telling the chiefs we aren't true men."

When Mr. Francois Larocque, the captain of the traders, paid a visit to the fort, Captain Lewis informed him very strongly that the United States would not tolerate any flags and medals except those authorized by the President. This was now United States territory.

This day Sergeant Pryor dislocated his shoulder while helping to take down the mast of the barge.

Now cold weather set in again, and the river was closed by ice. The snow fell for a day and a night, and lay thirteen inches deep. But fortunately the roofs were on the cabins, the stone chimneys drew well, and there was plenty of meat and dried corn.