Which Way to the Columbia?

"Wirrah, but tired I am!" groaned Patrick Gass.

It was June 3, and in the nineteen days they had come more than 300 miles from Brown-bear-defeated Creek. What with the constant wading and tugging to conquer the narrow, swift current and the strong head winds, well might all groan.

Night alarms had disturbed the camps. Once the men had been aroused only just in time to drag the captains' hide lodge away from a spot upon which a burning tree was about to fall; and, again, a stupid buffalo bull had charged through, and only the little black dog had saved the camp from much damage.

But the Rock or Shining Mountains were nearer. On Sunday a week ago Captain Lewis, climbing a hill, had seen them, to the west. The Sho-sho-nes or Snake Indians might be expected any day. Their country was near, also.

Now the river had split: one branch for the north, one for the southward; and the captains did not know which branch to follow. So they ordered camp here at the forks, below present Fort Benton in north central Montana.

A travel-worn camp it was, too—of bearded, long-haired men, their buckskin and elk-hide suits shriveled by water, their moccasins in tatters, their hands blistered and their feet sore from rocks and the prickly-pear cactus.

"De nort' branch—she de true Missouri," asserted old Cruzatte. "See how swift an' muddy she is, jus' like de Missouri. Ain' dat so, Drouillard?

"Drouillard nodded.

"I sartin she true Missouri. I lif on Missouri most my life, an' I know. De odder stream too clear an' smooth."

"For that very r'ason it comes out o' the Rock Mountains, 'cordin' to the cap'ns," put in Pat. "An' the bed of it be round stones, the same as are fetched down out o' the mountains. Not but what I favor the north branch myself, as 'the more likely direction. We'll find the Columhby across to the north, an' not to the south, I'm thinkin'."

"The Minnetarees down at the Mandan town told us the Missouri was clear, at its head, didn't they?" queried George Shannon. "And there are some big falls to pass."

"Mebbe de nort' branch get clear, in leetle time," argued Drouillard. "She de true Missouri, for de •Columby."

"Oui. So t'ink we all," agreed Cruzatte and Chaboneau and Lepage and Labiche. "De odder branch go too far lout'."

This was the opinion of the majority of the men. But—

"We've got to be might careful," argued George. "The Missouri and the Columbia are supposed to head right near each other, the one on this side the mountains, the other on 'tother side. It would be a bad mess if we crossed and found we were in the wrong place. We haven't any time to lose."

Evidently so thought the captains. For the next day Captain Lewis took Drouillard, Sergeant Nat

or and several others, to explore by foot up the north fork. Captain Clark took Chaboneau, Sergeant Pat and several others, to explore up the south fork. Peter and the rest of the men remained at camp, together with Sa-ca-ja-we-a and little Toussaint.

This gave them the opportunity to sit in their bare feet, mend their moccasins and leggins, and pick green wild currants and ripe wild gooseberries. Sa-ca-jawe-a, who was always busy, dressed a doe-skin for herself and little Toussaint.

The Captain Clark party returned on the third day, in the rain. They had gone up along the south branch about forty miles—had walked about loo miles, all told, said Pat, with a wry face and a limp; Reuben had been chased so shrewdly by a big bear, after his gun had missed fire, that in climbing a tree he kicked the bear's mouth, and as nobody could get to the tree the bear had kept Reuben there for an hour; rain and snow both had made the trip uncomfortable—but the river appeared to lead west of south, and the captain was convinced that it was the true Missouri.

"He's the commandin' officer; still I don't agree with him," said Pat. "An' I hope he's wrong, for the other river's the 'asier. I'd rather sail in a boat than on foot, any day."

"Did you sight any falls, Pat?" asked Joe Fields.

"Niver a fall—but I felt some," answered Pat.

Captain Lewis was yet out. He and his party did nQt return this evening, nor the next day; and on the following day everybody was worried about them. But that afternoon at five o'clock they came toiling in, hungry, soaked with the cold rain, and weary after a five days' tramp of 120 miles.

"I'm glad to see you, Merne," exclaimed Captain Clark, his face lighting up amidst his thick red hair and shaggy red beard. "What's the news?"

"We've been along the north fork sixty miles and it doesn't head toward any mountains. I don't believe it's the Missouri, although Drouillard insists it must be"

"I don't believe so, either, Merne. The south fork looks the better of the two, to me." And they paced together to their lodge.

It was a cheery crowd, in spite of the dangers and discomforts and the hard work. That evening the sky had cleared, there was a big supper of venison, the feet of the men who had stayed in camp were about well, and Cruzatte tuned up his fiddle for a dance.

Toward noon of the next day, Sunday, June 9, a parade was ordered, to hear what the captains had decided. The men left their tasks of dressing skins and repairing weapons, and fell in, under their sergeants.

Captain Lewis stood straight and slim before them, in his fringed but stained buckskin suit. His bright hair was tied in a queue behind, and he, like Captain Clark, had grown a beam—yellow as his hair.

"Captain Clark and I have consulted together, men," he said. "We have examined our maps, and compared our notes; and we believe that the southern fork is the true Missouri. It has all the signs of a mountain stream, the Indians never have mentioned passing any south fork in order to proceed on to the great falls, and this south fork certainly bears off for those snowy mountains to the southwest which are undoubtedly the Rock Mountains that divide the waters of the Missouri and the Columbia. Accordingly we will take the south fork. That we have chosen as the Missouri; the north fork I have had the honor to entitle Maria's River, as a tribute to my cousin in Virginia, Miss Maria Wood, of Charlottesville."

"Do you wish to hear from any of the men, Captain?" inquired Captain Clark. "Some of them may have an opinion to offer."

"Well, they favor the north fork, I understand," answered the captain, with a smile. "I'll be glad to hear what they may say."

Who was to speak? Patrick Gass, of course. Pat coughed, and saluted.

"What is it, Sergeant? Go ahead. Speak up, man."

"It's this way, sorr—Captain, sorr. Yez are the commandin' officers—ye an' Cap'n Clark, an' if yez say the south fork be the Missouri, o' course the Missouri it is, an' we'll all follow yez, sorr. Sure, all we're afraid of, sorr, is that we get down yonder at the foot o' the snowy mountains, an' on the other side there won't be anny C'lumby at all, sorr. But we'll go with yez, sorr, if that's where yez go. Thank yez, sorr." And Patrick saluted again, quite out of breath.

"Captain Clark and I will take the responsibility. We'll try the south fork, men," declared Captain Lewis. "Parade is dismissed."

"Thray cheers for the captains, boys," shouted Patrick Gass. And as the parade broke, into the air was flung every cap and hat and every voice rang true.

Immediately preparations were begun. The heavy baggage and the extra supplies were to be left here, and so was one of the pirogues. Men were set at work digging a large hole in which to store the goods. It was to be kettle shaped—small at the top, then hollowed out, round, until it was six or seven feet deep. The soil was dumped upon blankets and robes, and thrown into the river, so that there should be no trace of any digging, lest the Indians find and rob. The bottom and sides were to be lined with dry brush and hides, to keep the moisture from the goods. The store-house was called a cache, from the French word, "cacher," to conceal.

The red pirogue was to be hidden on an island at the mouth of Maria's River.

John Shields, the 'blacksmith, and Alec Willard worked at bellows and forge, repairing tools and spontoons; and William Bratton repaired broken guns.

However, the captains were still cautious regarding the right route to strike the Columbia on the other side of the mountains; and early the next morning, June 11, Captain Lewis took Drouillard, John Shields, George Gibson and Si Goodrich, to scout ahead up that south fork. He promised to send back word to Captain Clark, who was to follow, with the boats and party, as soon as the cache was completed.

On the morning of the twelfth the white pirogue and the six canoes headed up the south fork, before a fair wind.

"We're off," exulted Sergeant Pat.

Everybody was in high spirits:—everybody except Chaboneau and Sa-ca-ja-we-a.

"Sa-ca-ja-we-a she seeck," announced Chaboneau. "I do not know what is matter. Mebbe stomick, or mebbe she ketch col' in all dat rain."

Yes, the little sixteen-year-old Bird-woman was feeling very ill. Now for almost a thousand miles she had carried baby Toussaint, had tended the lodge fire and done other Indian woman work; sometimes she had been wet, frequently cold and foot-sore, but she never had complained or lagged.

"You must let her rest, Chaboneau," said Captain Clark, that evening at camp. "Keep her in bed. York, you look after her. Never mind me. Make her some broth. Peter, you help her with little Toussaint. Hold him, if she'll let you."

So Peter took charge of baby Toussaint—who really was a very good baby. He rarely cried, and even rarely smiled. He lay in his swathings of skins and stared with his bright black eyes.

The day had been an easy one for nobody. The river soon had run swiftly; it was broken with many sand-bars and gravel-bars, and by boulders upon which several times the canoes almost capsized.

The next day's voyage was as bad, and worse. Snow mountains appeared on the south as well as at the west. There were 'numerous islands, more shoals and' boulders, and the tow-lines were used. Sa-ca-jawe-a, lying on a couch of skins in the white pirogue, had not improved. She moaned, and tossed, and babbled strange words. Peter and York watched over her and the baby, although occasionally York had to tumble out and haul on the tow-line.

"Pshaw!" muttered Captain Clark, that night, gazing, non-plussed, at Sa-ca-ja-we-a, who did not recognize him. "We mustn't lose our little Bird-woman. She's to be our guide to her own people, so that they will show us the way across the mountains. In fact, the fate of the expedition may depend upon her."

"I ver' worried," confessed Chaboneau. "Never see her dees way before."

The next day the rapids were more severe. Wading breast-deep in the cold water and slipping on the rocky bottom, the men scarcely could haul the boats against the current. All the morning was consumed in making six miles. Just at noon, when halt was ordered, for dinner, a figure was seen, ahead, hurrying down along the banks.

It was John Shields, from Captain Lewis. As he approached, he swung his hat.

"Hurrah, boys!" he shouted. "We're all right. This is the trail. The captain's found the falls!" He came panting and puffing into camp. "It's the true Missouri."

"How far up are the falls, Shields?" asked Captain Clark, eagerly.

"About twenty miles, sir. But you can't get to them with boats."

And that was so. The next day the rapids of the river were more furious, and the men were constantly dodging rattlesnakes on the banks. Shields was sent ahead to tell Captain Lewis that the party were on their way. Captain Clark ordered a noon halt near a large spring of sulphur water, to wait for Captain Lewis. The roaring of the falls had already been heard above the noise of the river.

Sa-ca-ja-we-a was carried to the sulphur spring. She drank quantities of it and soon felt much better.

"Now be very careful what she eats, Chaboneau," warned Captain Clark.

At two o'clock Captain Lewis arrived from above. He was enthusiastic over the falls, but he had had several narrow escapes from death, according to Drouillard.

He had been seriously ill, and only choke-cherry tea had cured hid'. When he had neglected to reload his rifle after shooting a buffalo, a huge "white bear "had charged him, driven him into the river, but had retreated before the captain's leveled pike or spontoon. That same day three buffalo bulls at once had run at him, heads down, until he fortunately had turned on them, whereat they also turned. And that night he slept with a rattlesnake over four feet long coiled on a log just above his head.

"I t'ink de cap'n haf plenty excitement, in one day," declared Drouillard.