The explorers were now (in the last days of July, 1805) at the head of
the principal sources of the great Missouri River, in the fastnesses
of the Rocky Mountains, at the base of the narrow divide that separates
Idaho from Montana in its southern corner. Just across this divide are
the springs that feed streams falling into the majestic Columbia and
then to the Pacific Ocean. As has been already set forth, they named the
Three Forks for President Jefferson and members of his cabinet. These
names still survive, although Jefferson River is the true Missouri
and not a fork of that stream. Upon the forks of the Jefferson Lewis
bestowed the titles of Philosophy, Wisdom, and Philanthropy, each of
these gifts and graces being, in his opinion, “an attribute of that
illustrious personage, Thomas Jefferson,” then President of the United
States. But alas for the fleeting greatness of geographical honor!
Philosophy River is now known as Willow Creek, and at its mouth, a busy
little railroad town, is Willow City. The northwest fork is no longer
Wisdom, but Big Hole River; deep valleys among the mountains are known
as holes; and the stream called by that name, once Wisdom, is followed
along its crooked course by a railroad that connects Dillon, Silver Bow,
and Butte City, Montana. Vulgarity does its worst for Philanthropy; its
modern name on the map is Stinking Water.
On the thirtieth of July, the party, having camped long enough to unpack
and dry their goods, dress their deerskins and make them into leggings
and moccasins, reloaded their canoes and began the toilsome ascent of
the Jefferson. The journal makes this record:--
“Sacajawea, our Indian woman, informs us that we are encamped on the
precise spot where her countrymen, the Snake Indians, had their huts
five years ago, when the Minnetarees of Knife River first came in
sight of them, and from whom they hastily retreated three miles up
the Jefferson, and concealed themselves in the woods. The Minnetarees,
however, pursued and attacked them, killed four men, as many women,
and a number of boys; and made prisoners of four other boys and all
the females, of whom Sacajawea was one. She does not, however, show any
distress at these recollections, nor any joy at the prospect of being
restored to her country; for she seems to possess the folly, or the
philosophy, of not suffering her feelings to extend beyond the anxiety
of having plenty to eat and a few trinkets to wear.
“This morning the hunters brought in some fat deer of the long-tailed
red kind, which are quite as large as those of the United States,
and are, indeed, the only kind we have found at this place. There are
numbers of the sand-hill cranes feeding in the meadows: we caught a
young one of the same color as the red deer, which, though it had nearly
attained its full growth, could not fly; it is very fierce, and strikes
a severe blow with its beak. . . .
“Captain Lewis proceeded after dinner through an extensive low ground of
timber and meadow-land intermixed; but the bayous were so obstructed by
beaver-dams that, in order to avoid them, he directed his course toward
the high plain on the right. This he gained with some difficulty,
after wading up to his waist through the mud and water of a number
of beaver-dams. When he desired to rejoin the canoes he found the
underbrush so thick, and the river so crooked, that this, joined to the
difficulty of passing the beaver-dams, induced him to go on and endeavor
to intercept the river at some point where it might be more collected
into one channel, and approach nearer the high plain. He arrived at the
bank about sunset, having gone only six miles in a direct course from
the canoes; but he saw no traces of the men, nor did he receive any
answer to his shouts and the firing of his gun. It was now nearly dark;
a duck lighted near him, and he shot it. He then went on the head of a
small island, where he found some driftwood, which enabled him to cook
his duck for supper, and laid down to sleep on some willow-brush. The
night was cool, but the driftwood gave him a good fire, and he suffered
no inconvenience, except from the mosquitoes.”
The easy indifference to discomfort with which these well-seasoned
pioneers took their hardships must needs impress the reader. It was a
common thing for men, or for a solitary man, to be caught out of camp
by nightfall and compelled to bivouac, like Captain Lewis, in the
underbrush, or the prairie-grass. As they pressed on, game began to fail
them. Under date of July 31, they remark that the only game seen that
day was one bighorn, a few antelopes, deer, and a brown bear, all of
which escaped them. “Nothing was killed to-day,” it is recorded, “nor
have we had any fresh meat except one beaver for the last two days; so
that we are now reduced to an unusual situation, for we have hitherto
always had a great abundance of flesh.” Indeed, one reason for this is
found in Captain Lewis’s remark: “When we have plenty of fresh meat, I
find it impossible to make the men take any care of it, or use it with
the least frugality, though I expect that necessity will shortly teach
them this art.” We shall see, later on, that the men, who were really as
improvident of food as the Indians, had hard lessons from necessity.
Anxious to reach the Indians, who were believed to be somewhere ahead
of them, Captain Lewis and three men went on up the Jefferson, Captain
Clark and his party following with the canoes and luggage in a more
leisurely manner. The advance party were so fortunate as to overtake a
herd of elk, two of which they killed; what they did not eat they left
secured for the other party with the canoes. Clark’s men also had good
luck in hunting, for they killed five deer and one bighorn. Neither
party found fresh tracks of Indians, and they were greatly discouraged
thereat. The journal speaks of a beautiful valley, from six to eight
miles wide, where they saw ancient traces of buffalo occupation, but no
buffalo. These animals had now completely disappeared; they were seldom
seen in those mountains. The journal says of Lewis:--
“He saw an abundance of deer and antelope, and many tracks of elk and
bear. Having killed two deer, they feasted sumptuously, with a dessert
of currants of different colors--two species red, others yellow, deep
purple, and black; to these were added black gooseberries and deep
purple service-berries, somewhat larger than ours, from which they
differ also in color, size, and the superior excellence of their
flavor. In the low grounds of the river were many beaver-dams formed of
willow-brush, mud, and gravel, so closely interwoven that they resist
the water perfectly; some of them were five feet high, and caused the
river to overflow several acres of land.”
Meanwhile, the party with the canoes were having a fatiguing time as
they toiled up the river. On the fourth of August, after they had made
only fifteen miles, the journal has this entry:--
“The river is still rapid, and the water, though clear, is very much
obstructed by shoals or ripples at every two hundred or three hundred
yards. At all these places we are obliged to drag the canoes over the
stones, as there is not a sufficient depth of water to float them, and
in the other parts the current obliges us to have recourse to the cord.
But as the brushwood on the banks will not permit us to walk on shore,
we are under the necessity of wading through the river as we drag the
boats. This soon makes our feet tender, and sometimes occasions severe
falls over the slippery stones; and the men, by being constantly wet,
are becoming more feeble. In the course of the day the hunters killed
two deer, some geese and ducks, and the party saw some antelopes,
cranes, beaver, and otter.”
Captain Lewis had left a note for Captain Clark at the forks of the
Jefferson and Wisdom rivers. Clark’s journal says:--
“We arrived at the forks about four o’clock, but, unluckily, Captain
Lewis’s note had been attached to a green pole, which the beaver had cut
down, and carried off with the note on it: an accident which deprived us
of all information as to the character of the two branches of the river.
Observing, therefore, that the northwest fork was most in our direction,
we ascended it. We found it extremely rapid, and its waters were
scattered in such a manner that for a quarter of a mile we were forced
to cut a passage through the willow-brush that leaned over the little
channels and united at the top. After going up it for a mile, we
encamped on an island which had been overflowed, and was still so wet
that we were compelled to make beds of brush to keep ourselves out of
the mud. Our provision consisted of two deer which had been killed in
the morning.”
It should be borne in mind that this river, up which the party were
making their way, was the Wisdom (now Big Hole), and was the northwest
fork of the Jefferson, flowing from southeast to northwest; and near the
point where it enters the Jefferson, it has a loop toward the northeast;
that is to say, it comes from the southwest to a person looking up its
mouth.
After going up the Wisdom River, Clark’s party were overtaken by
Drewyer, Lewis’s hunter, who had been sent across between the forks to
notify Clark that Lewis regarded the other fork--the main Jefferson--as
the right course to take. The party, accordingly, turned about and began
to descend the stream, in order to ascend the Jefferson. The journal
says:--
“On going down, one of the canoes upset and two others filled with
water, by which all the baggage was wet and several articles were
irrecoverably lost. As one of them swung round in a rapid current,
Whitehouse was thrown out of her; while down, the canoe passed over him,
and had the water been two inches shallower would have crushed him to
pieces; but he escaped with a severe bruise of his leg. In order to
repair these misfortunes we hastened (down) to the forks, where we were
joined by Captain Lewis. We then passed over to the left (east) side,
opposite the entrance of the rapid fork, and camped on a large gravelly
bar, near which there was plenty of wood. Here we opened, and exposed
to dry, all the articles which had suffered from the water; none of them
were completely spoiled except a small keg of powder; the rest of the
powder, which was distributed in the different canoes, was quite safe,
although it had been under the water for upward of an hour. The air is
indeed so pure and dry that any wood-work immediately shrinks, unless
it is kept filled with water; but we had placed our powder in small
canisters of lead, each containing powder enough for the canister when
melted into bullets, and secured with cork and wax, which answered our
purpose perfectly. . . .”
“In the evening we killed three deer and four elk, which furnished us
once more with a plentiful supply of meat. Shannon, the same man who had
been lost for fifteen days (August 28 to Sept. 11, 1804), was sent
out this morning to hunt, up the northwest fork. When we decided on
returning, Drewyer was directed to go in quest of him, but he returned
with information that he had gone several miles up the (Wisdom) river
without being able to find Shannon. We now had the trumpet sounded,
and fired several guns; but he did not return, and we fear he is again
lost.”
This man, although an expert hunter, had an unlucky habit of losing
himself in the wilderness, as many another good man has lost himself
among the mountains or the great plains. This time, however, he came
into camp again, after being lost three days.
On the eighth of August the party reached a point now known by its
famous landmark, Beaver Head, a remarkable rocky formation which gives
its name to Beaverhead County, Montana. The Indian woman, Sacajawea,
recognized the so-called beaver-head, which, she said, was not far from
the summer retreat of her countrymen, living on the other side of the
mountains. The whole party were now together again, the men with the
canoes having come up; and the journal says:--
“Persuaded of the absolute necessity of procuring horses to cross
the mountains, it was determined that one of us should proceed in the
morning to the head of the river, and penetrate the mountains till
he found the Shoshonees or some other nation who can assist us in
transporting our baggage, the greater part of which we shall be
compelled to leave without the aid of horses.”. . .
Early the next day Captain Lewis took Drewyer, Shields, and M’Neal, and,
slinging their knapsacks, they set out with a resolution to meet some
nation of Indians before they returned, however long they might be
separated from the party.
The party in the canoes continued to ascend the river, which was so
crooked that they advanced but four miles in a direct line from their
starting-place in a distance of eleven miles. In this manner, the party
on foot leading those with the canoes, they repeatedly explored the
various forks of the streams, which baffled them by their turnings and
windings. Lewis was in the advance, and Clark brought up the rear with
the main body. It was found necessary for the leading party to wade the
streams, and occasionally they were compelled by the roughness of
the way to leave the water-course and take to the hills, where great
vigilance was required to keep them in sight of the general direction in
which they must travel. On the 11th of August, 1805, Captain Lewis came
in sight of the first Indian encountered since leaving the country of
the Minnetarees, far back on the Missouri. The journal of that date
says:
“On examining him with the glass Captain Lewis saw that he was of a
different nation from any Indians we had hitherto met. He was armed with
a bow and a quiver of arrows, and mounted on an elegant horse without a
saddle; a small string attached to the under jaw answered as a bridle.
“Convinced that he was a Shoshonee, and knowing how much our success
depended on the friendly offices of that nation, Captain Lewis was full
of anxiety to approach without alarming him, and endeavor to convince
him that he (Lewis) was a white man. He therefore proceeded toward the
Indian at his usual pace. When they were within a mile of each other the
Indian suddenly stopped. Captain Lewis immediately followed his example,
took his blanket from his knapsack, and, holding it with both hands at
the two corners, threw it above his head, and unfolded it as he brought
it to the ground, as if in the act of spreading it. This signal, which
originates in the practice of spreading a robe or skin as a seat for
guests to whom they wish to show a distinguished kindness, is the
universal sign of friendship among the Indians on the Missouri and the
Rocky Mountains. As usual, Captain Lewis repeated this signal three
times: still the Indian kept his position, and looked with an air of
suspicion on Drewyer and Shields, who were now advancing on each side.
Captain Lewis was afraid to make any signal for them to halt, lest he
should increase the distrust of the Indian, who began to be uneasy, and
they were too distant to hear his voice. He therefore took from his pack
some beads, a looking-glass, and a few trinkets, which he had brought
for the purpose, and, leaving his gun, advanced unarmed towards the
Indian. He remained in the same position till Captain Lewis came within
two hundred yards of him, when he turned his horse and began to move off
slowly. Captain Lewis then called out to him in as loud a voice as he
could, repeating the words tabba bone, which in the Shoshonee language
mean white man. But, looking over his shoulder, the Indian kept his eyes
on Drewyer and Shields, who were still advancing, without recollecting
the impropriety of doing so at such a moment, till Captain Lewis made a
signal to them to halt: this Drewyer obeyed, but Shields did not observe
it, and still went forward. Seeing Drewyer halt, the Indian turned his
horse about as if to wait for Captain Lewis, who now reached within one
hundred and fifty paces, repeating the words tabba bone, and holding up
the trinkets in his hand, at the same time stripping up the sleeve of
his shirt to show the color of his skin. The Indian suffered him to
advance within one hundred paces, then suddenly turned his horse, and,
giving him the whip, leaped across the creek, and disappeared in an
instant among the willow bushes: with him vanished all the hopes
which the sight of him had inspired, of a friendly introduction to his
countrymen.”
Sadly disappointed by the clumsy imprudence of his men, Captain Lewis
now endeavored to follow the track of the retreating Indian, hoping that
this might lead them to an encampment, or village, of the Shoshonees. He
also built a fire, the smoke of which might attract the attention of
the Indians. At the same time, he placed on a pole near the fire a
small assortment of beads, trinkets, awls, and paints, in order that the
Indians, if they returned that way, might discover them and be thereby
assured the strangers were white men and friends. Next morning, while
trying to follow the trail of the lone Indian, they found traces of
freshly turned earth where people had been digging for roots; and, later
on, they came upon the fresh track of eight or ten horses. But these
were soon scattered, and the explorers only found that the general
direction of the trails was up into the mountains which define the
boundary between Montana and Idaho. Skirting the base of these mountains
(the Bitter Root), the party endeavored to find a plain trail, or Indian
road, leading up to a practicable pass. Travelling in a southwesterly
direction along the main stream, they entered a valley which led into
the mountains. Here they ate their last bit of fresh meat, the remainder
of a deer they had killed a day or two before; they reserved for their
final resort, in case of famine, a small piece of salt pork. The journal
says:--
“They then continued through the low bottom, along the main stream, near
the foot of the mountains on their right. For the first five miles, the
valley continues toward the southwest, being from two to three miles in
width; then the main stream, which had received two small branches from
the left in the valley, turned abruptly to the west through a narrow
bottom between the mountains. The road was still plain, and, as it
led them directly on toward the mountain, the stream gradually became
smaller, till, after going two miles, it had so greatly diminished in
width that one of the men, in a fit of enthusiasm, with one foot on
each side of the river, thanked God that he had lived to bestride the
Missouri. As they went along their hopes of soon seeing the Columbia
(that is, the Pacific watershed) arose almost to painful anxiety, when
after four miles from the last abrupt turn of the river (which turn
had been to the west), they reached a small gap formed by the high
mountains, which recede on each side, leaving room for the Indian road.
From the foot of one of the lowest of these mountains, which rises with
a gentle ascent of about half a mile, issues the remotest water of the
Missouri.
“They had now reached the hidden sources of that river, which had never
yet been seen by civilized man. As they quenched their thirst at the
chaste and icy fountain--as they sat down by the brink of that little
rivulet, which yielded its distant and modest tribute to the parent
ocean--they felt themselves rewarded for all their labors and all their
difficulties.
“They left reluctantly this interesting spot, and, pursuing the Indian
road through the interval of the hills, arrived at the top of a ridge,
from which they saw high mountains, partially covered with snow, still
to the west of them.
“The ridge on which they stood formed the dividing line between the
waters of the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. They followed a descent
much steeper than that on the eastern side, and at the distance of
three-quarters of a mile reached a handsome, bold creek of cold, clear
water running to the westward. They stopped to taste, for the first
time, the waters of the Columbia; and, after a few minutes, followed the
road across steep hills and low hollows, when they came to a spring on
the side of a mountain. Here they found a sufficient quantity of dry
willow-brush for fuel, and therefore halted for the night; and, having
killed nothing in the course of the day, supped on their last piece of
pork, and trusted to fortune for some other food to mix with a little
flour and parched meal, which was all that now remained of their
provisions.”