Work, work, work! Through this the month of September, 1804, the boats
had been toiling on up the sluggish Missouri River, in the present
State of South Dakota. With the rains, the winds, and the shallows,
everybody, even the captains, was wet all the day, from hauling on the
tow-ropes, in and out of the water.
The weather turned cold and raw. Shelters of deer hides were stretched
over the two pirogues, and in the camps the men made themselves hide
coats and leggins and moccasins. Patrick and old Cruzatte together
fitted Peter with a buckskin suit that felt much better to him than his
other, clumsy garments.
After having been gone over two weeks, George Shannon appeared at last,
riding through the rain, with only one horse. He had been lost, and had
almost starved, and the other horse had broken down. All were glad to
see George again.
But where, now, were the Teton Sioux? George reported that he had seen
none.
The last week in September a great smoke was sighted in the distance;
and that night three Indian boys swam the river, to enter the camp.
They were Tetons, from two villages a few miles above.
“Give them some tobacco,” directed Captain Lewis. “Tell them to say to
their chiefs that we will hold a council to-morrow morning, near the
villages.”
On the way up, Reuben Fields, who had been hunting, horseback, returned
afoot and signalled to be taken aboard. He said that some Indians had
stolen his horse while he was dressing an elk.
“Oui,” chirped Drouillard. “Dose Tetons haf bad hearts. We best look
sharp or dey take scalps, too.”
“We mustn’t let them have the idea they can plunder us,” spoke Captain
Lewis, reddening. “This leaves us without horses.”
“Aren’t those several Indians, on the bank ahead?” presently queried
Captain Clark.
Captain Lewis peered through his spy-glass.
“Five of them. We’ll stop and hail them, and hear what they have to
say.”
“Do you think they’re the fellows who stole your horse, Fields?” asked
Captain Clark.
“I can’t tell, sir,” answered Reuben. “I had only a glimpse of the
thieves, and these Injuns mainly look alike, sir, till you get to know
’em.”
The five Indians on the bank stolidly waited, while the barge hove to,
opposite.
“Are they Tetons, Drouillard?” inquired Captain Lewis.
“Oui,” nodded Drouillard. “Dey Tetons. Eh, Cruzatte?”
“Mais, oui,” confirmed One-eyed Cruzatte. “Beeg rascals.”
“All right. Tell them that some of their young men have stolen a horse
from their great father at Washington, and we want it returned or we
will hold no council. We’re willing to be friends, but we aren’t afraid
of them.”
“I do not know much of dees Sioux tongue, but I will try,” engaged
Drouillard. And by signs and a few words he delivered the message.
The Indians consulted a moment together; then one of them replied.
“I t’ink dey say dey haf not seen a hoss,” translated Drouillard. “But
if it is found it will be return’.”
“I t’ink so, too,” added the funny Cruzatte――although everybody was
aware that he did not understand a word of Sioux.
However, by the signs that were made, Peter would have interpreted
the same as Drouillard. He and the Oto boys had practiced for hours,
talking sign language.
The boats stopped for the night off the mouth of a river on the left
or the south. This night only a few men were allowed ashore, to guard
the cook fires; the remainder slept aboard the boats, with their guns
ready. The captains named the river Teton River, but it was soon
renamed Bad River, for very good reason.
In the morning everybody, except the boat guards, landed. The
captains ordered the United States flag hoisted, again, on a pole,
and the awning was stretched, as at the camp where the Otoes had been
entertained. All the soldiers ashore were formed in rank, under arms,
facing the flag-pole and the canopy; and soon the Tetons came in to
council, from their village two miles up-river.
There were about sixty of them. They were not nearly so good-looking as
the Yanktons, being smaller, with slim crooked legs and lean arms, and
eyes set over high cheek-bones.
The council did not pass off very satisfactorily, because Drouillard
knew little Teton talk, and scarcely could make himself understood when
he talked for Captain Lewis. Still, the head chief, Black Buffalo,
was given a medal, and a United States flag, and a red coat decorated
with white lace, and a cocked hat with red feather. The second chief,
Tor-to-hon-ga or Partisan, and the third chief, Buffalo Medicine, were
given medals and beads and tobacco. Two warriors, Wah-zing-go, and
Mat-o-co-que-pa or Second Bear, also were rewarded.
“What do you suppose those raven scalps signify?” asked George Shannon.
For the two warriors wore each two or three raven skins fastened to
their waists behind, with the tails sticking out, and on their heads
was another raven skin, flattened with the beak to the fore.
“Dey special soldier,” explained old Cruzatte. “W’at you call――marshal.
Oui. Dey boss. Obey nobody but chief.”
Then the captains took them all aboard the barge to show them the
cannon and the air-gun that shot forty times, and other wonders.
Captain Clark brought them ashore again in the red pirogue.
No sooner had the cable been carried on shore, to be held by Patrick
Gass and Reuben Fields and George Shannon while the load was landed,
and Captain Clark had stepped out, than three of the Indians grabbed
it, and Wah-zing-go, the warrior, put his arms about the mast, as if to
keep the boat there. Tor-to-hon-ga began to talk in a loud and angry
voice. Captain Clark flushed.
“What does he say, Peter?” he appealed. For Drouillard was on the
barge, and only Peter was near. When the five men had started to row
the pirogue ashore, with the chiefs and Captain Clark, he had slipped
in, too.
“The chief say you cannot go away till you give them more presents,”
translated Peter, boldly; for he had picked up some Sioux words and he
could read the gestures, also.
“What!” And Captain Clark was angry indeed. He had only five men, two
in the boat and three ashore, but he was not afraid. “You tell him we
will go on, and he can’t stop us. We are not squaws, but warriors. Our
great father has medicine on those boats that will wipe out twenty
Sioux nations.”
“The chief says he has plenty warriors, too,” interpreted Peter.
And at that moment the chief sprang for Captain Clark; the warriors
spread right and left, jerked arrows from quivers and fitted them to
strung bows. Out whipped Captain Clark’s bright sword――the long knife;
and Chief Tor-to-hon-ga dodged. Captain Clark’s face was redder than
his hair. He acted like a great chief.
“Watch out, Sergeant!” he cried, to Patrick Gass. “Rally on the boat;
never mind the rope. Face them and stand together, men!”
Captain Lewis’s voice rang high and stern, from the barge. Out of the
white pirogue a dozen men plashed into the shallows and wading and
plunging, hastened to reinforce the red pirogue. Corporal Warfington
and the six St. Louis soldiers who had been sent along to help as far
as the Mandans were with them.
“Steady!” warned Captain Lewis. “Look sharp, Will.” And now the black
muzzle of the cannon in the bows of the barge swung full at the shore.
Behind it stood Gunner Alexander Willard, with lighted match.
This was enough. Head Chief Black Buffalo shouted an order, and his men
left the cable and the pirogue and fell back. The “medicine” of the
great father at Washington was, they realized, strong medicine.
To show that he was not afraid, and that he wished to be friendly,
Captain Clark offered to shake hands with Black Buffalo and Partisan;
but they surlily refused. So the captain laughed, and ordered the red
pirogue to return to the barge. Then Black Buffalo and Partisan, and
the warriors Wah-zing-go and Second Bear ran after, through the water,
and climbed aboard, to go on the barge also.
“Rather a close shave, Will,” remarked Captain Lewis. “An instant more
and I’d have helped you out with a round of grape.”
“They wished to try our metal,” smiled Captain Clark.
“We were afraid the white chiefs would go on and not stop at our
village to show our squaws and boys the great father’s boats,” alleged
Chief Black Buffalo.
“Tell him we are willing to be friends, and will stop,” directed
Captain Lewis. “The soldiers of the great father do not fear the Sioux.”
“If head chief he not tell dat raven soldier to let go mast, he hang on
till cut in leetle pieces,” was saying Cruzatte.
In the morning the boats were moved up to the village, and Captain
Lewis went ashore. Truly, the Red Head and the slim Captain Lewis were
brave men. Peter was proud to have been by Captain Clark’s side, in the
fracas. It was fine to be a United States.
When Captain Lewis returned on board, he told Captain Clark that
everything was all right, and that the Tetons were waiting for the Red
Head.
“You’re a bigger man than I am, Will, after the stand you made
yesterday,” he laughed.
And it seemed to be that way, for when Captain Clark landed he was
met by ten young warriors, with a gaily decorated buffalo robe. They
carried him upon it, and then bore him, sitting in it, to the council
house. This was great honor.
“You’re nixt, Cap’n,” ventured Patrick Gass. “There they are, back for
ye, sorr.”
“Be alert, Sergeant,” bade the captain, as he vaulted from the barge
into the pirogue. “They may appear friendly, but we mustn’t take any
chances. Don’t let the men lay aside their arms for a minute, and keep
them together.”
“Yis, sorr. I will, sorr,” promised Patrick Gass. He was the oldest
soldier in the company, and the captains relied upon him.
Captain Lewis likewise was borne to the council house; and the men of
the expedition, except the boat guards, marched after.
The council lasted a long time, and was concluded with a feast of the
dog-meat from a pot, and of buffalo meat and hominy and ground-potato.
Buffalo meat was given to the white chiefs as a present. The Tetons
claimed to be poor, but they weren’t. This was a powerful and rich
village, as anybody might see. Before the dance that had been planned
for the evening, the men were permitted to roam about a little. Peter
and Patrick Gass and their party discovered a string of scalps hanging
from a pole, and a number of Omaha squaws and children who appeared
very miserable.
Peter talked with them a little. They were prisoners. The Tetons had
attacked their village down the river, and had burned forty lodges and
killed seventy-five warriors.
When dusk fell the dance was started, by the light of a fire, in
the middle of the council house. The Sioux warriors danced, and the
Sioux women danced; but at midnight the captains told the chief that
everybody was tired and it was time to go to bed.
“The chief he say: ‘Ver’ well. Now sleep. To-morrow more Sioux come,
to talk with de great father.’ He want you to stay,” interpreted
Drouillard.
“We will stay and see these other Sioux,” answered Captain Lewis. “What
do you think, Will?”
“If you say so, Merne,” replied Captain Clark. “But there’s some trick
in this. We mustn’t be caught off guard――and of course we mustn’t show
that we’re afraid, either.”
But no visiting Sioux turned up, although the boats waited all day. At
night another dance was given.
“We in bad feex,” asserted One-eyed Cruzatte. “Dose Teton, dey keep us.
I t’ink dey plan mischief. I wish we go on.”
Everybody was nervous.
“Now I wonder if we’re in for a fight,” spoke Corporal Warfington.
“Sure,” said Patrick Gass, “we can lick ’em.”
Amidst the dusk ashore, while Peter, tired of the noise and dancing,
was wandering a few steps, a low voice hailed him, in Oto.
“Hist! You Oto?” It was one of the Omaha squaws. How could she have
guessed that he had been an Oto?
“No. White,” responded Peter.
“Tell your chiefs the Sioux are bad. They will not let the big boats
go. They play you a trick.”
“I will tell,” responded Peter. “You speak Oto well.”
“I am Omaha, but I was in Oto village once. I saw you.” And the squaw
vanished.