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THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE COLUMBIA

[Illustration]

OR: IN THE WILDERNESS OF THE GREAT NORTHWEST




THE YOUNG PIONEER SERIES

BY HARRISON ADAMS

ILLUSTRATED


[Illustration]

  THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE OHIO,
  Or: Clearing the Wilderness                      $1.25

  THE PIONEER BOYS ON THE GREAT LAKES,
  Or: On the Trail of the Iroquois                  1.25

  THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE MISSISSIPPI,
  Or: The Homestead in the Wilderness               1.25

  THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE MISSOURI,
  Or: In the Country of the Sioux                   1.25

  THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE YELLOWSTONE,
  Or: Lost in the Land of Wonders                   1.25

  THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE COLUMBIA,
  Or: In the Wilderness of the Great Northwest      1.25

[Illustration]

    THE PAGE COMPANY
    53 Beacon Street     Boston, Mass.

[Illustration: "THE TWO BOYS HAD TO . . . START UPON THE LONG JOURNEY
INTO THE NORTHWEST" (_See page 148_)]




The Young Pioneer Series

THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE COLUMBIA

OR: IN THE WILDERNESS OF THE GREAT NORTHWEST

    By HARRISON ADAMS
    Author of "The Pioneer Boys of the Ohio," "The Pioneer
    Boys of the Missouri," "The Pioneer Boys
    of the Yellowstone," etc.

[Illustration]

    Illustrated by
    WALTER S. ROGERS


    THE PAGE COMPANY
    BOSTON  [Illustration]  MDCCCCXVI




[Illustration]

    _Copyright, 1916, by_
    THE PAGE COMPANY


    _All rights reserved_


    First Impression,
    May, 1916




[Illustration]




PREFACE

DEAR BOYS:--


The time has at last arrived when we must say good-bye to our pioneer
friends, the Armstrongs. You will remember how we have followed their
adventurous careers down the Ohio, along the Mississippi, then up the
great Missouri to the wonder country of the Yellowstone; and now,
between the covers of the present volume, are narrated the concluding
incidents in the story of "Westward Ho!"

Our country is deeply indebted to the class of pioneers typified by the
Armstrong boys. Restless spirits many of them were, always yearning for
richer lands where game would be more plentiful. It was undoubtedly
this desire that led them further and further into the "Country of the
Setting Sun," constantly seeking that which many of them never found;
until at length the Pacific barred their further progress.

Bob and Sandy Armstrong, together with their sturdy sons, Dick and
Roger, are but types of the settlers who opened up the rich territory
of the Mississippi Valley, as well as the Great West. Their kind is not
so numerous now, at least in our own country, since the need for such
adventurous souls has become less acute. In many places, however, like
the Canadian Northwest, they can still be met with, forging the links
that will bind the wilderness to civilization.

If you boys have found one half the enjoyment in reading of the
exploits of our young pioneers that the task has afforded the author
in writing of them, his aim, which has been to instruct as well as to
entertain, will have been accomplished.

                                                HARRISON ADAMS.

May 1, 1916.

[Illustration]




[Illustration]




CONTENTS

    CHAPTER                                   PAGE
           PREFACE                               v
         I THE LURE OF THE SETTING SUN           1
        II WRECKED IN THE RAPIDS                11
       III WOLVES IN THE TIMBER                 22
        IV THE BIRCH BARK MESSAGE               33
         V WHAT THE PICTURE WRITING TOLD        44
        VI STALKING THE BUFFALO                 55
       VII HUNTERS, ALL                         66
      VIII CHARGED BY A BULL                    74
        IX PLANNING A SURPRISE                  82
         X SPRINGING THE TRAP                   96
        XI BANISHED FROM CAMP                  106
       XII ON FISHING BENT                     117
      XIII GLORIOUS SPORT WITH THE TROUT       128
       XIV PRISONERS OF THE DACOTAHS           139
        XV WHEN STOUT HEARTS WERE NECESSARY    149
       XVI THE ESCAPE                          159
      XVII SHELTER IN A HOLLOW TREE            170
     XVIII THE STORM                           180
       XIX UNDER THE FALLEN FOREST MONARCH     190
        XX THE RETURN FROM CAPTIVITY           199
       XXI AT THE FOOT OF THE ROCKIES          211
      XXII THE DEATH OF THE BULL MOOSE         222
     XXIII HUNTING THE MOUNTAIN SHEEP          232
      XXIV ON THE BURNING DESERT               243
       XXV THE OASIS                           254
      XXVI AMONG THE NEZ PERCES                263
     XXVII FROM SADDLE TO CANOE AGAIN          276
    XXVIII AT THE FALLS OF THE COLUMBIA        287
      XXIX NEARING THE SALTY SEA               298
       XXX A MOMENT OF PERIL                   308
      XXXI THE END OF THE LONG TRAIL           316
     XXXII TO THE RISING SUN--CONCLUSION       329
           NOTES                               337

[Illustration]




[Illustration]




LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS


                                                              PAGE
  "THE TWO BOYS HAD TO . . . START UPON THE LONG
      JOURNEY INTO THE NORTHWEST" (_see page 148_)   _Frontispiece_
  "'HE TRIES TO STRIKE THEM AS THEY JUMP AT HIM'"               32
  "'RUN FOR THE TREES, ROGER!' SHOUTED DICK"                    74
  "THEY PUSHED FORWARD, AND WERE SOON AT THE
      FALLEN TREE"                                             192
  "'THERE! YOU CAN SEE HIM MOVE'"                              235
  "FULLY HALF OF THE FLAT HEAD INDIANS WENT WITH
      THE LANDSLIDE"                                           317

[Illustration]




The Pioneer Boys of the Columbia




CHAPTER I

THE LURE OF THE SETTING SUN


"IT strikes me, Dick, the rapids are noisier to-day than ever before."

"We have time enough yet, Roger, to paddle ashore, and give up our plan
of running them."

"But that would be too much like showing the white feather, Cousin; and
you must know that we Armstrongs never like to do that."

"Then we are to try our luck in the midst of the snarling, white-capped
water-wolves, are we, Roger?"

"I say, 'yes.' We started to make the run, and a little extra noise
isn't going to frighten us off. Besides, we may not have another chance
to try it."

"You're right there, Roger, for I heard Captain Lewis say we'd have to
start up the river again in a few days, heading into the great West,
the Land of the Setting Sun."

"I am ready, Dick. My paddle can be depended on to see us through.
We'll soon be at the head of the rapids, too."

"Already the canoe feels the pull, and races to meet it. Steady now,
Roger, and let us remember what the Indians told us about the only safe
passage through the Big Trouble Water, as they call it. A little more
to the left--now straight ahead, and both together!"

The two sturdy, well-grown lads who crouched in the frail Indian craft,
made of tanned buffalo skins, need no introduction to those who have
read any of the preceding volumes of this series.

There may be those, however, who, in these pages, are making the
acquaintance of Dick and Roger, the young pioneers, for the first time;
and for their benefit a little explanation may be necessary.

While the pair are shooting downward, on the rapidly increasing current
of the Yellowstone River, toward the roaring rapids, on this spring day
in the year 1805, let us take a brief look backward. Who were these
daring lads of the old frontier days, and how came they so far from
the westernmost settlements of the English-speaking race along the
Mississippi, and about the mouth of the Missouri?

Dick Armstrong and his cousin, Roger, were the sons of two brothers
whose adventures along the Ohio in the days of Daniel Boone occupied
our attention in the earlier stories of border life. They were worthy
of their fathers, for Dick had inherited the thoughtful character of
Bob Armstrong, while Roger at times displayed the same bold disposition
that had always marked Sandy, his parent, in the perilous days when
they founded their homes in the then untrodden wilderness.

The families were now located at that spot which had first been taken
up by the French, and called St. Louis in honor of the King of France.
Their grandfather, David Armstrong, still lived, as did also his wife,
hale and hearty, enjoying the increasing households of their children.

Bob and Sandy had both married, and besides Dick there was a smaller
son, named Sam in the cabin of the former. Roger had a little sister,
called Mary, in honor of her grandmother.

The two cousins had grown up, as did most lads of those early days,
accustomed to think for themselves, and to meet danger bravely. Both
of them were accomplished in all the arts known to successful woodsmen.
They learned from experience, as well as from the lips of old borderers
who visited in their homes, and were able to hold their own with any
boys of their age in the community.

A sudden calamity threatened to disturb the peace of the Armstrong
circle, when it was learned that there was a flaw in the deed by which
their property was held. An important signature was required in order
to perfect this title, and, unless this could be obtained, and shown by
the succeeding spring, everything would pass into the possession of a
rich and unscrupulous French Indian trader, Francois Lascelles by name.

Inquiry developed the fact that Jasper Williams, the man whose
signature was so important to the happiness of all the Armstrongs, had
gone with the expedition undertaken by Captain Lewis and Captain Clark,
which was headed into the unknown country of the Setting Sun, with the
hope of finding a way to the far distant Pacific Ocean.

No white man had as yet crossed the vast stretches of country that lay
west of the rolling Mississippi, and it was the boldest undertaking
ever known when President Jefferson influenced Congress to stand back
of his proposition to learn the extent of the possessions that had
recently come to the United States. (Note 1.)[1]

The President's private secretary, Captain Lewis, headed the small
party of adventurous spirits, assisted by an army officer, Captain
Clark. They left St. Louis in the spring of 1804, and had been long on
the way when the Armstrongs discovered that the one man whom they could
depend on to save their homes was with the expedition.

Ordinarily Bob and Sandy Armstrong would have been quick to take upon
themselves the duty of overtaking the expedition, and securing the
necessary signature; but a recent injury prevented one of the brothers
from going.

In the end the proposition of Dick and Roger to undertake the
stupendous task was agreed to, and the boys started, mounted on two
horses and equipped as well as the times permitted. The adventures they
met with were thrilling in the extreme, and have been described at
length in earlier volumes.[2]

The youths overtook the expedition after it had gone far up the "Great
Muddy," as the Missouri had already become known, and the coveted
signature was obtained. Then the lads were tempted to continue with the
party, since Captain Lewis was sending back one of his most trusted
scouts with an account of what had already happened to the expedition,
for the perusal of President Jefferson; and he could be trusted to see
that the precious document reached the Armstrongs.

During the winter just passed the two boys were kept busy in the role
of scouts and providers of fresh meat for the camp, a duty which their
early training made them peculiarly fitted to assume.

The expedition had laid out a comfortable camp near the Indian village
of the Mandan tribe, with whom peaceful relations had been established
at the time of their first arrival in the neighborhood.

Some of the bolder spirits had ventured into the realm of natural
wonders now known as Yellowstone Park, and had viewed with amazement
and awe the strange geysers that spouted hot water hundreds of feet in
the air at stated periods, as well as many other singular mysteries.

Dick and Roger had been among the fortunate few to view these marvels;
but, as a rule, the soldiers and bordermen associated with the two
captains were almost as superstitious as the ignorant red men, and
actually feared to set eyes on these strange freaks of Nature which
they could not understand. The Indians called the place the Bad Lands,
and believed an evil Manitou dwelt there, who was ever ready to
seize upon and enchain those reckless warriors who should invade his
territory.

Slowly the long winter had passed away, and all seemed to be going
well. There had been occasional signs of trouble, when hostile hunting
parties of Indians were encountered; but, thus far, none of the
expedition had been more than wounded in these frays.

Spring was at last at hand, and every one in the party looked forward
with eagerness to the fresh start that was soon to be made. They had
gathered much information concerning the vast stretch of plains and
mountains that still lay between them and their goal; but, since
only Indians had ever penetrated that wilderness, these stories were
invariably untrustworthy, for the mind of the red man was very much
like that of a child, and could see things only from an imaginative
standpoint.

About all that the adventurers really knew was that there was a
tremendous barrier of mountains which they must climb before they could
hope to attain their ambitious aim and gaze upon the Pacific Ocean,
seen at that time only by those, following Balboa, who had crossed the
narrow isthmus where the Panama Canal now joins the rival oceans.

Every evening, when the sun was setting in a maze of glowing colors,
Dick and Roger were accustomed to stand and watch until the last fiery
finger had finally faded from the skies. To them that mysterious West
held out beckoning arms. They never tired of talking about the fresh
wonders they might gaze upon once they started into the trackless
wilds; and their young souls were aflame with eagerness as the days
crept along, each one bringing them closer to the hour of departure.

For some time they had intended to take a canoe through the big rapids
of the river, which they had passed in ascending the stream, before
making the winter camp. From the Indians they had secured all possible
information, and finally, knowing that their time here was now short,
they had set forth with the canoe that had been their property for
months, bent upon undertaking the rather risky voyage.

If the daring canoe-man knows his course, the passing through a rapid,
amidst all the foam and rush of hungry waters, is not the perilous
thing it seems. Besides a knowledge of the way, all that is required is
a bold heart, a quick eye, a stout paddle, and muscular arms to wield
it.

The two lads soon entered the upper stretches of the white-capped
water. They quickly picked out their course, and found themselves
shooting downward with almost incredible speed. Around them on every
hand was boiling, tumultuous water, curling and rushing and leaping as
though eager to seize upon its prey.

Dick and his cousin were not at all dismayed. They had rubbed up
against perils so often in their young lives that they could keep cool
in the face of almost any danger. Roger crouched in the bow and fended
off from the rocks, so that the glancing blows the boat received would
not damage the tough skins of which the craft was made.

Dick occupied the stern, and his was the crafty hand that really guided
the canoe, for Roger always acknowledged that his cousin could handle
a paddle better than he could.

They had passed more than two-thirds of the way down the rapids, and
the worst seemed to be behind them, when something strange happened.

The canoe struck a partly submerged, but perfectly smooth, rock. It was
only a slight blow, and glancing at that, but nevertheless the results
were startling. No sooner had the accident occurred than the bottom of
the boat gaped open and the water rushed in with terrible speed. One
look convinced Dick that it was quite hopeless to try to keep the craft
afloat with their weight to force this flood through the hole.

"Quick! snatch up your gun, and jump overboard, Roger!" he shouted.
"And hold on to the boat, remember, like grim death!"

Roger was nothing if not catlike in his actions when an emergency
arose; and the two lads leaped over into the swirling water as
one, ready to battle for their lives with the rapids, where the
superstitious red men said the evil spirits dwelt amidst continual
strife and warring.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] The notes will be found at the end of the book.

[2] "The Pioneer Boys of the Missouri" and "The Pioneer Boys of the
Yellowstone."




CHAPTER II

WRECKED IN THE RAPIDS


WHEN they made this sudden plunge, the two boys were careful to
maintain their grip upon the sides of the boat, one being on the right
and the other on the left. Relieved of their weight, the buoyant canoe
would probably float, and might yet prove of considerable help to them
in navigating the remainder of the boisterous rapids.

All pioneer boys early learned to swim like fishes. It was as much a
part of their education as handling a gun, or acquiring a knowledge of
woodcraft. The lad who was not proficient in all these things would
have been hard to find, and had he been discovered, the chances were
he would have been deemed a true mollycoddle, and fit only to wear the
dresses of his sister, or, as the Indians would have described it, be a
"squaw."

No sooner had Dick and Roger found themselves in the swift flowing
waters than they struck out most manfully to keep themselves and the
boat afloat. It was no new experience in their adventurous career, for
before now they had more than once found themselves battling with a
flood.

For a brief time it promised to be a most exciting experience, and one
that would require their best endeavors if they hoped to come out alive
at the foot of the rapids. To be hurled against some of the jutting
spurs of rock with all the force of that speeding current would mean
blows that would weaken their powers of resistance, and cause them to
lose their grip on the side of the canoe.

There were times when they were almost overwhelmed by the dashing,
foamy waters. In every instance, however, their pluck and good judgment
served to carry them through the difficulty.

All the while they had the satisfaction of knowing that they must be
drawing closer to the end of the rapids. Already Dick believed he could
notice a little slackening of the fury with which they were beaten
on all sides by the lashing waters. He managed to give a shout to
encourage his cousin.

"Keep holding on, Roger; we are nearly at the bottom! Another minute
will take us into smoother water! Tighten your grip, and we shall win
out yet!"

"I'm game to the finish!" was all Roger could say in reply, for every
time he opened his mouth it seemed as though some of the riotous water
would swoop over his head and almost choke him by forcing itself down
his throat.

Before another minute was half over they had come to the foot of the
rapids, and, still holding to the waterlogged canoe, floated out upon
comparatively smooth water. Here amidst the foam and eddies they
managed to push the boat toward the shore.

Roger was already laughing, a little hysterically it is true, for he
had been tremendously worked up over the exciting affair. It might have
ended in a tragedy for them; but, now that the peril was past, Roger
could afford to act as if he saw only the humorous side of the accident.

"That was a very close call, Dick!" he ventured, as they continued to
swim as best they could, holding their guns in the hands that at the
same time clutched the gunwales of the boat.

"We rather expected it," replied Dick, "and laid our plans to meet an
upset; but it came with a rush, after all. Who'd ever believe such a
little knock against a rock would have burst the tough skin of our hide
boat?"

"Yes, and a perfectly _smooth_ rock at that," added Roger, as though he
knew this to a certainty, and it added to the mystery in his eyes. "I
believed these boats were tough enough to stand ten times that amount
of pounding. I believe after all I prefer our old style of dugout."

"Yes, they may be clumsy, but you can depend on them all the time;
and after this I think I'll be suspicious about a hide boat," Dick
continued.

The shore was now close at hand, and they found little difficulty in
making a landing. At the same time the half sunken Indian boat was
dragged up on the bank, and tipped over to relieve it of the water,
though that began to pour out through the rent in the bottom as soon as
it left the river.

It was only natural that the two boys should first throw themselves
down on the soft bank to regain some of their breath after such
an exciting time. Then, having been brought up in the school of
preparedness, their next act was to examine their guns, and to renew
the priming of powder in the pan, so that the weapons, on which, they
always depended to defend themselves against sudden perils, would be in
condition for immediate use in case of necessity.

In those days old heads were to be found on young shoulders.
Responsibility caused lads, hardly entering their teens, to become
the defenders of their families, as well as hunters and trappers. And
the Armstrong cousins had long filled a position of trust of this
description in the home circles.

"Well, we shot the rapids, all right," remarked Roger, presently, with
a whimsical smile; "but not exactly as we had planned. Now we can have
the pleasure of walking back to camp. At least it saves us the bother
of paddling all the way, after making a carry around the rapids. And we
meant to give our boat to one of the Mandan boys, you remember, Dick."

"I'm puzzled about that boat," remarked the other, frowning.

"I suppose you mean you wonder what made it play such a treacherous
trick on us, after standing the wear and tear of the winter," Roger
observed.

"Yes, for you remember we examined it closely only yesterday, and made
sure it was in perfect condition. Suppose we take a look at that
break, and see how it happened to come."

"Oh! the chances are," said Roger, carelessly, "the old hide became
worn or weak through age, and gave way. Still," he added, "that was
only a little bump, Dick, and I'm as bothered as you are how to explain
it."

In another minute they were bending over the upturned canoe.
Immediately both boys uttered exclamations of astonishment, as though
they had made a discovery that gave them an unexpected thrill.

"Why, it looks as if a sharp knife blade had been drawn straight down
along here, and cut nearly through the skin, so that even a little blow
would finish it!" exclaimed Roger, turning his troubled eyes upon his
cousin as if to ascertain whether the other agreed with him.

"That is exactly what has been done," added Dick, soberly. "See, you
can even notice where the slit extends further than the break. This was
not as much an accident as we thought, Roger. Some rascal, who knew
what we expected to do, tried to bring about our destruction in the
rapids!"

"But it must have been done since yesterday," declared the other
angrily, "for we looked over every inch of the skin of the boat then,
and surely would have noticed the deep scoring of a knife blade."

"There can be no doubt about that," agreed Dick. "And the work was
skillfully done in the bargain. Whoever made that cut expected that
the boat would strike against rocks many times during the run of the
rapids, and took chances that one of the blows would tear open the weak
place. And that is what happened."

"It would have gone much harder with us if we had not been most of the
way down the descent," said Roger, with a frown on his face. "But,
Dick, who could the treacherous rascal be? As far as we know, we have
not made a single enemy among the members of the party. Would one of
our Indian friends have played such a mean trick on us, do you think?"

"No one but an enemy could have done it, Roger, because there was
nothing to gain; for while some Indians might envy us our rifles these
would surely be lost with us in the rapids and never recovered."

"That makes the mystery worse than ever, then," fretted the other
lad, who was so constituted that among his boy friends down along the
Missouri he had often gone under the name of "Headstrong Roger."

"I have a suspicion, although there is really nothing to back it up,
that I can see," remarked Dick, reflectively, as though at some time in
the past winter he had allowed himself to speculate concerning certain
things which were now again taking possession of his mind.

"Dick, tell me what it is about, please," urged his cousin, "because
I'm groping in the dark, myself."

"There is only one man that I know of who hates us bitterly," commenced
Dick, and instantly a flash of intelligence overspread the face of the
other.

"Do you mean that French trader, Francois Lascelles?" he demanded.

"I was thinking of him, and his equally unscrupulous son, Alexis," Dick
admitted.

"But, when we captured them last fall, they were held prisoners in the
camp until Mayhew, the scout, was well on his way down the river and
could not possibly be overtaken. Then the party of Frenchmen was let
go, with the solemn warning from Captain Lewis that if any of them
loitered around this region they would be shot on sight. And Dick, all
winter long you remember we have seen nothing of Lascelles, or indeed
for that matter any other white man."

"Still," urged the other, "he may have come back here again when he
found he could not overtake Mayhew and secure that paper. A man like
Francois Lascelles hates bitterly, and never forgives. To be beaten in
his game by a couple of mere boys would make him gnash his teeth every
time he remembered it. Yes, something seems to tell me, Roger, that
our old enemy has returned, and is even now in communication with some
treacherous member of the expedition."

"You mean his money has hired some one to play this terrible trick that
might have cost us our lives; is that it, Dick?"

"It is only a guess with me," replied the other, soberly; "but I can
see no other explanation of this mystery."

"But who could be the guilty man in the camp?" asked Roger. "We
believed every one was our friend, from the two captains down to the
lowest in line. It is terrible to suspect any one of a crime like this.
How will we ever be able to find out about it, do you think?"

"We must begin to keep our eyes about us and watch," advised Dick. "One
by one we can cross the names off our list until it narrows down to
two or three. Sooner or later we shall find out the truth."

"Do you mean to tell Captain Lewis about the knife-slit along the
bottom of our boat?" demanded Roger.

"It is our duty to tell him," Dick declared. "The man who could stoop
to such a trick as that, just for love of money, is not fit to stay in
the ranks of honest explorers. Once we can show him the proof, I am
sure Captain Lewis will kick the rascal out of camp. But I can see that
you are beginning to shiver, Roger; so the first thing we ought to do
now is to make a fire, and dry our clothes as best we may."

"I was just going to say that myself, Dick, because this spring air is
sharp, with little heat in the sun. To tell you the honest truth my
teeth are beginning to rattle like those bones the Mandan medicine man
shakes, when he dances to frighten off the evil spirit that has entered
the body of a sick man. So let's gather some wood and make a blaze."

With that, both boys began to bestir themselves, first of all slapping
their arms back and forth to induce circulation; after which they
started to collect dry wood in a heap. At no time, however, did they
let their precious guns leave their possession, for they knew that
when fire-arms were needed it was usually in a hurry, and to save life.




CHAPTER III

WOLVES IN THE TIMBER


"LET me light the pile, Dick," Roger pleaded, after they had made
sufficient preparation.

They had selected only dry wood for various reasons. In the first
place, this would burn more readily, and thus throw off the heat they
wanted in order to dry their clothes. At the same time it was likely to
make little smoke that could be seen by the eyes of any hostile Indians
who might be within a mile or so of the spot.

Boys who lived in those pioneer days always carried flint and steel
along with them, in order to kindle a blaze when necessary. Had these
been lacking, Roger, no doubt, would have been equal to the occasion,
for he could have flashed some powder in the pan of his gun, and thus
accomplished his purpose. (Note 2.)

In a short time Roger, being expert in these lines, succeeded, by the
use of flint and steel, as well as some fine tinder, which he always
carried along with him in his ditty bag, in starting a fire.

The wood blazed up and sent out a most gratifying heat, so that both
boys, by standing as close as they could bear it, began to steam, very
much after the manner of some of the warm geysers, during the stated
periods when they were not spouting, that the lads had looked upon in
the Land of Wonders.

"What shall we do about the boat?" asked Roger, when they found that
they were by degrees getting dry, though it took a long time to
accomplish this desired end.

"I was thinking about that," his cousin told him. "It is not worth
while for us to try to patch the hole, because we expect to abandon it
very soon. Captain Lewis asked us to be with him in his boat. We had
better leave it here, and perhaps they may send a couple of Indians
down to fetch it to camp."

"You mean, Dick, if the captain wishes to see for himself the mark of
the treacherous knife blade?"

"Which I think he will want to do, so as to settle it in his own mind,"
returned the other. "This is, after all, the most terrifying thing that
has as yet happened to us on our long journey up here into the heart of
the wilderness."

"That is just it, Dick. Open foes I can stand, because you know what
to expect; but it gives me a creep to think of some unknown person
standing ready to stab us in the dark, or when our backs are turned.
Perhaps, after all, we did wrong to decide on staying with Captain
Lewis and Captain Clark, when we might have gone on home with Mayhew,
carrying that precious paper."

"Oh! I wouldn't look at it that way, Roger," said the other, striving
to cheer him up, for Roger was subject to sudden fits of depression.
"Just think of all the wonderful things we have seen while here; and
then remember that there are still other strange sights awaiting us in
the Land of the Setting Sun."

"Yes, that's so, Dick, and both of us decided that the chance to look
upon the great ocean was one not to be lightly cast aside."

"We've been lucky so far," Dick told his chum, "and succeeded in
everything we have undertaken; so even this new trouble mustn't upset
us. By keeping a sharp lookout we can expect to learn who the traitor
is, and after that he will be forced to leave the party. And if that
Lascelles is around here again he will have to look out for himself.
Anyhow," he added after a pause, "we have gone too far now to turn
back, no matter whether we made a mistake or not."

"Yes, and as my father used to say," continued Roger, "'what can't
be cured must be endured.' We have made our bed, and must lie in it,
no matter how hard it may seem. I'm going to believe just as you do,
Dick--that the same kind fate that has always watched over us in times
past is still on duty."

He glanced upward toward the blue sky as he said this, and Dick knew
what he intended to imply; for boys in those days were reared in a
religious atmosphere in their humble homes, and early learned to "trust
in the Lord; but keep their powder dry," as the Puritan Fathers used to
do.

"Our fathers often had to meet situations just as dangerous as any that
can come to us," continued Dick, "and they grappled them boldly and
came off victorious. So, from now on, we'll devote ourselves to finding
out whose was the unseen hand that held the knife with which our hide
boat was slashed so cleverly."

"How far are we from camp, do you think, Dick?"

"As the crow flies it may be five miles, though we came further than
that on the river," the other boy replied without any hesitation,
showing how completely he kept all these things in his mind, to be
utilized on short notice.

"We came down with a swift current," Roger admitted, "and it hardly
seemed as if we could have been an hour on the way. It will take us
some time to tramp back to camp, even if we take a short-cut to avoid
the bends in the river."

"What of that," asked Dick, "since we expected to spend a good part of
the day in paddling up the stream, after shooting the rapids? But, if
you are dry enough now, I think we had better make a start."

"Suppose we drag the boat into these bushes first, Dick," suggested
Roger.

"Not a bad idea either, for some passing Indian might think it worth
while to mend the hole and carry the boat off. We would like to have
Captain Lewis take a look at that knife mark, so as to prove our story.
He trusts all his men, and it is going to make him feel badly to know
that one among them has sold himself to an enemy."

Between them they carried the hide canoe in among the bushes, where it
was easily hidden away. Of course any one seeking it would readily
find its hiding-place; but at least it could not be seen by the
ordinary passer-by.

Having accomplished this, the two lads set forth to cover the ground
lying between their landing place on the shore of the river, below the
rapids, and the camp of the explorers.

They anticipated no trouble in finding their goal, because of their
familiarity with woods life. Besides, in their numerous hunting trips
during the past winter they had covered nearly all the territory around
that region, so that the chances of their getting lost were small
indeed.

"We may run across game on the way back, don't you think, Dick?"
suggested Roger, just after they had left the ashes of their late fire,
which had been dashed with water before they quitted the scene.

"You never can tell," came the reply; "there is always a chance to
sight a deer in this country. We got a number, you remember, within
three miles of camp while the snow was deep on the ground. And already
I have noticed signs telling that they use this section for feeding on
the early shoots of grass."

"Yes," added Roger, "tracks there have been in plenty. And as I live!
see here, where this tuft of reddish hair has caught on a pointed
piece of bark. I warrant you some buck rubbed himself against this tree
good and hard. I would like to have been within gunshot of the rascal
just then, for the marks are fresh, and I think they were made this
very morning."

This gave the two boys hope that they might at any minute run across
the deer and bring him down with a lucky shot. As fresh venison was
always welcome in the camp, such a possibility as this always spurred
them on to do their best. They liked to hear the cheery voice of
Captain Lewis telling them frankly that it had been a fortunate thing
for the whole expedition when he tempted Dick and Roger to remain and
see the enterprise through.

"Listen! what is all that noise ahead of us?" asked Roger, as a sudden
burst of snarling and half-suppressed howling was borne to their ears.

"Wolves, as sure as you live!" exclaimed Dick, frowning, for if there
was one animal upon which he disliked to waste any of his precious
ammunition, that beast was a wolf.

Ordinarily these animals are not to be feared when met singly, or even
in pairs; but, during the winter and early spring, they gather in
packs, in order to hunt the better for food, and at such times even
the boldest hunter dislikes running across them.

"They are certainly on the track of something," suggested Roger, as he
listened, and then, shrugging his broad shoulders, he continued. "Like
as not, it is that buck we were hoping to run across. A plague on the
pests! If I had my way, and could spare the ammunition, I'd shoot every
one of the lot!"

"Little good that would do," Dick told him; "because they run to
thousands upon thousands out on the plains and in the mountains where
we are heading. A dozen or two would be no more than a grain of sand on
that seashore we hope to set eyes on before snow flies again."

"But listen to them carrying on, Dick," continued the other, with
growing excitement. "Come to think of it, I never heard wolves make
those queer sounds when chasing a deer. You know they yap like dogs,
and almost bark. These beasts are acting like those creatures did when
they had me caught up in a tree, with my gun on the ground."

"Yes, I remember the time well enough," chuckled Dick. "You were
mighty glad to see a fellow of my heft, too, when I came along. Twenty
hours up a tree is no joke, when you've got a healthy appetite in the
bargain. But, just as you say, Roger, there is something queer about
the way they are carrying on."

"They're not chasing anything now, that's certain," asserted the other
positively; "because the sounds keep coming from the same place all the
time. Dick, perhaps the beasts may have some one treed for all we know.
They are savage with hunger, and would just as soon make a meal off a
hunter, red or white, as off a deer or a wounded buffalo."

"It happens to be right on our way to camp," remarked Dick, tightening
his grip on his long-barreled rifle, "so we can find out what's up
without going far out of our path."

This, of course, pleased Headstrong Roger, always in readiness for
adventure, it mattered little of what nature. He always maintained that
he had a long-standing debt against the tribe of _lupus_ on account of
that terrible fast mentioned by his cousin, and, although powder and
ball were not too plentiful, he seldom failed to take a shot at his
four-footed enemies when the chance came to him.

So now he fancied that he would end the prowling of at least one
red-tongued woods rover. Certainly he could spare a single charge, and
it would give him more satisfaction than almost anything else. You see,
Roger had rubbed the old sore when he spoke of that bitter experience
in the past, and it smarted again venomously.

As they pushed steadily on, the sounds increased in volume. They could
even hear the thud of heavy bodies falling back to the ground after
frantic leaps aloft, as though endeavoring to reach some tempting
object among the branches of a tree.

Then Roger, who had the keenest eyesight of the pair, muttered:

"There, I can just begin to see them through the trees and brush
yonder, Dick; and, as we believed, they have some human being treed, or
else are trying to force conclusions with a panther, which would be a
strange thing, to be sure."

"We'll soon know," the other whispered, "for it's only a little way.
Yes, I can see them jumping up, just as you say. Roger, fasten your
eyes on the tree above, and tell me what that dark object is."

A minute later, as they still kept pushing forward, Roger uttered a low
cry.

"Well, after all, it's an Indian brave up there. And he's already
shot a number of the brutes with his arrows; but I reckon his stock
has given out. He tries to strike them as they jump at him, using his
knife. And, Dick, I can see now that he isn't a Mandan Indian at all,
but more likely one of those Sioux who, under their sub-chief, Beaver
Tail, did us such a good turn last fall, when we saved Jasper Williams
from the French traders. But what can a Sioux warrior be doing here, in
the land of his foes, the Mandans?"

[Illustration: "'HE TRIES TO STRIKE THEM AS THEY JUMP AT HIM'"]




CHAPTER IV

THE BIRCH BARK MESSAGE


"THERE, I could see him reach down then and strike at a leaping wolf!"
exclaimed Dick, showing signs of excitement, something he seldom did,
since he had wonderful control over his emotions for a boy of his age.

"Just as I told you," continued Roger, trembling all over with
eagerness, "he has used up his arrows, and is trying to cut down the
number of his four-footed enemies by other means."

"There, listen to that howl!"

"Oh! he made a splendid strike that time, Dick!"

"Yes, and you can see what that clever brave is up to, if you notice
the wild scuffle at the foot of the tree," the other replied.

"Why, the wolves seem to be fighting among themselves, Dick. What makes
them act that way, do you know?"

"I can give a guess. These mad animals are almost starving, though
just how that should be, at this season of the year, I am not able to
say. The scent of blood makes them wild, you see, and, every time the
brave's knife wounds one of the pack, the rest set upon the wretched
beast to finish him."

"In that way the Indian could clean them up in time, I should say,
without any help from us," Roger suggested, though he showed no sign
that his intention of giving aid had changed in the least.

"But they might take warning, and stop jumping up at him," Dick
explained; "then his knife would be useless. And, too, other wolves
hearing the noise are apt to hasten to the spot, so that there might be
an increasing pack, a new one for every beast he helped to kill."

"Dick, he is a brave fellow, even if his skin is red!"

"I agree with you there," said the other, softly.

"Then are we not going to bring about his rescue, even if it does cost
us some of our precious powder and shot?" Roger demanded.

"Yes, but I hope it will not be more than one load," replied his
cousin; for all their lives this question of a wastage of ammunition
had been impressed on their minds as the utmost folly, and on that
account they seldom used their guns except to make sure of worthy game.

"Come, let us rush forward with loud yells, waving our arms, and doing
everything we can to scare the animals off before we begin to fire.
After we get close up, and they are hesitating what to do, that is the
time for us to blaze away."

"A good plan, Roger, and worthy of our fathers' old friend, Pat O'Mara.
Only as a last resort will we use our fire-arms."

"And you be the one to say when, Dick, remember!"

"Depend on me for that," Roger was told quickly. "Just as soon as I
see that something is needed to force the ugly beasts to make up their
minds, I'll call out to you to give it to them."

"Give me one last word of advice before we rush them, Dick."

"Yes, what is it, Roger?"

"If, instead of taking to their heels, the pack turns on us, and starts
to fight, what must we do?"

"There isn't one chance in ten it will happen that way," said Dick,
"for wolves are too cowardly. When they see us rushing boldly forward
you'll notice how every beast's head will droop, and that he'll begin
to skulk away, showing his teeth, perhaps, but cowed and whipped."

"But suppose it should?" urged Roger, as they paused, just before
bursting out upon the strange scene.

"If it comes to the worst we may have to take to a tree just as the
Indian brave has done," Dick told him, "and then start to work killing
them off as fast as we can load and fire. Now, are you ready to do a
lot of yelling?"

"Just try me, that's all, Dick!"

"Come on, then, with me!"

With the words Dick sprang boldly forth from his concealment, with his
cousin alongside. Both of them started to make the woods ring with
their strong young voices, and when two healthy boys yell and whoop
they can produce a tremendous volume of sound!

Some of those predatory wolves must have conceived the idea that a
whole company of the strange two-legged foes was rushing toward them,
judging from the hasty manner of their exit from the scene. Others,
however, either more bold or hungry, half crouched and, snarling,
showed their white teeth in a vicious manner.

Evidently these leaders of the pack were not as yet quite convinced
that the game had gone against them, despite all the noise made by the
oncoming boys. On seeing this, Dick and Roger tried to shout louder
than ever, while they waved their arms in the most frantic manner.

It devolved upon Dick to decide whether or not they should keep on in
this fashion until they came to close quarters with the wolves that
lingered, loth to give up their chance of a dinner. Rushing forward
at this rate, they would be on the scene in half a dozen seconds, and
might find the ugly beasts springing up at their throats.

Never before had the boys seen wolves acting in this manner, for as a
rule their nature is cowardly. There was nothing for it but to fall
back upon their guns for the finishing stroke, and so Dick gave the
word.

"We must shoot, Roger--take that big fellow in front!" he gasped, for
he was by this time fairly out of breath after all those strenuous
exertions of running, thrashing his arms, and shouting at the top of
his voice.

Accordingly both of them halted just long enough to throw their
long-barreled rifles to their shoulders, and glance along the sights.
They could actually hear the savage snarls of the defiant pack. Roger,
always a bit faster than his companion, was the first to fire, and with
the crash of his gun the big leader of the pack sprang upward, only to
fall back again with his legs kicking.

Dick's gun spoke fast on the heels of the first report, and he, too,
succeeded in knocking over the beast his quick eye had selected.

Then with renewed shouts, Dick and Roger once more started forward, but
there was a hasty scurrying of gray bodies, and presently not a wolf
remained in sight save the pair that had gone down before the deadly
fire of the guns.

The Indian up in the tree dropped to the ground, and the boys saw
immediately from his manner of dress that he was, just as Roger had
surmised, a Sioux warrior. From the fact that he was bleeding in
various places the boys understood that he must have put up a valiant
fight at close quarters against his four-footed enemies, before finally
seeking refuge among the branches of the friendly tree.

Naturally both lads immediately began to wonder why a Sioux brave
should thus venture into the neighborhood of the Mandan village, since
the two tribes had been at knives' points for many years. Indeed, the
preceding fall, when the boys had been aided by Beaver Tail and some of
his Sioux warriors, who accompanied them later to their camp, it had
required all the tact and diplomacy of which Captain Lewis was capable
to prevent an open rupture between the old-time rivals.

"First we must make him let us look at his wounds," suggested Dick,
"because it is no child's play to have the teeth of wolves draw blood.
Some of his wounds look bad to me."

"I think you are right, Dick," agreed the other, always accustomed to
leaving the decision to his cousin. "See if you can make him understand
what we want to do. I'll get some water in my hat, so you can wash the
wounds."

The boys always made it a practice to carry certain homely remedies
with them, for in those pioneer days the family medicine chest
consisted in the main of dried herbs, and lotions made from them, all
put up by the wise housewife. Those who lived this simple life, and
were most of the time in the open air, seldom found themselves in need
of a doctor, and most of their troubles sprang either from accidents,
or injuries received in combats with wild beasts of the forest.

So it was that they had with them a salve they always used to soothe
the pain, as well as neutralize the poison injected by bites or
scratches received in struggles at close quarters with carnivorous
beasts.

The Indian was looking at them as though puzzled. Whites were rarely
seen by the dwellers in these far regions beyond the Mississippi;
indeed, most of the natives had never as yet set eyes on a paleface.

This brave, however, may have been in company with Beaver Tail, the
friendly chief, at the time he aided the two boys, and, if so, he
undoubtedly recognized Dick and Roger.

Unable to speak the Sioux tongue, of which they knew but a few words,
it would be necessary for Dick to make use of gestures in conducting
a brief conversation with the other. Still, the smile on his face,
as well as the fact of his recent acts, would readily tell the red
wanderer that he was a friend.

"Ugh! Ugh!" was all the Indian could say, but he accepted the hand that
was extended, though possibly this method of greeting was strange to
him.

Dick pressed him to sit down, and the brave did so, though with
increasing wonder. He speedily realized, however, what the white boys
meant to do, and without offering any remonstrance continued silently
to watch their labor, as they proceeded to look after his injuries.

Roger fetched his hat full of cool water from a running brook close
by, and one by one Dick washed the numerous scratches and ugly furrows
where those wolfish fangs had torn the flesh of the stoical brave's
lower limbs.

He gave no sign of flinching, though the pain must have been more than
a trifle. The boys knew enough of Indian character to feel sure that,
if it had been ten times as severe, he would have calmly endured it,
otherwise he could not have claimed the right to wear the feather they
could see in his scalplock, and which signified that he was a warrior,
or brave.

Finally the task was completed. There had been nothing further heard
from the remnant of the baffled wolf pack all this while, proving that
the loss of their powerful leaders must have taken the last bit of
courage from the animals, known never to be very brave.

All the while the Sioux continued to keep those black eyes of his glued
on Dick Armstrong. It was as though he was in search of some one and
had made up his mind that, since there could be no other paleface boys
within a thousand miles of the spot, these must be the ones he had been
commissioned to find.

Just about the time Dick, with another of his rare smiles, indicated
that the work of looking after his injuries had been completed, the
Sioux fumbled in his snake-skin ditty bag, where he kept his little
stock of pemmican, and numerous other necessary articles, perhaps his
war paint as well. To the astonishment of the boys he drew out a small
roll of birch bark, secured far to the north, and handed it to Dick.

Filled with curiosity, the boy opened it with trembling fingers, to
find, just as he had anticipated, that it was covered with a series of
queer characters, painted after the Indian fashion and representing men
and animals.

"It's Indian picture writing, you see, Roger!" Dick declared, "and must
be meant for us, or else this brave would not give it over. He has been
sent here from the far-away Sioux village to find us, and deliver a
message."

"Yes," added Roger, excitedly. "And look, Dick, there is what seems
to be the awkward but plain picture of a beaver at the end of the
message. It must have been sent by our good friend, the chief of the
Sioux."

"You are right that far, Roger, for it is meant to be the signature of
Beaver Tail, himself. Now to see if we can make out what it says!"




CHAPTER V

WHAT THE PICTURE WRITING TOLD


IT was with the utmost eagerness that the two boys studied the strange
characters depicted on the strip of bark. The hand that had drawn them
there must have been accustomed to the task, and doubtless the story
the message was meant to tell could have been easily read by the eyes
of any Indian.

Dick and his cousin had seen samples of this queer picture writing
before that time, and understood how the Indians depend on the natural
sagacity of a woodsman, whether red or white, to decipher the meaning
of the various characters. (Note 3.)

"What can it all stand for?" demanded Roger, as he gazed blankly at the
several lines of characters. "Perhaps we may have to call on some of
the Mandans in the village to explain it to us."

"We will do that in the end, anyway," Dick said, "in order to make
certain; but, if we look this over closely, right now, we may get an
idea of what Beaver Tail meant by sending it."

"You don't think then, Dick, it was intended just as a greeting to us,
so as to let us know the chief has not forgotten his young paleface
brothers?"

"No, I feel sure it has a more serious meaning than that," the other
declared. "In fact, Roger, something tells me it may be in the nature
of a warning."

"A warning, Dick! Do you mean the Sioux chief wants us to tell Captain
Lewis it will be all his life is worth to keep heading into the land of
the West, now that spring has come?"

"I was thinking only of ourselves when I said that, Roger."

"And that the warning would be for our benefit, you mean? But, Dick!
how could Beaver Tail, so far away from here, know of any danger that
hung over our heads?"

"Let us examine the bark message, and perhaps we shall learn something
that may explain the mystery. The first thing we see is what looks to
be a man facing the sun that is half hidden by the horizon."

"Yes, that hedgehog-looking half circle is meant for the sun, I can see
that. And, further along, we find it again, only on the left side of
the man who is now creeping toward it. What do you make that out to be?"

"It is plain that one represents the rising, and the other the setting
sun," Dick explained, with lines of deep thought marked across his
forehead. "Now, an Indian always faces the north when he wants to
represent the points of the compass, so it is plain that the first sun
lies in the east."

"And he wanted us to know that this man was heading into the east first
of all; is that what you mean, Dick?"

"Yes, and look closer at the figure, Roger. It is not intended to be
an Indian, you can see, for he has a hat on his head. It strikes me we
ought to know that hat, cleverly imitated here; what do you say about
it?"

"Oh! it must be the odd-looking hat that French trader, Francois
Lascelles, always wore, Dick. He means that it was toward the rising
sun Francois started last fall, just as we know happened. And now
here he is, again, the same hat and all, creeping straight toward the
_setting_ sun. Does that mean the trader came back again, in spite of
the warning Captain Lewis gave him?"

"I am sure it means that, and nothing else," replied the other, calmly.
"Stop and think, Roger. Only a little while ago, we were wondering
whether such a thing had come about, because we found reason to believe
some member of the expedition had been hired to do us an injury. Yes,
that bitter Frenchman has dared to return, believing that he can keep
out of the reach of our protectors, and manage in some way to get his
revenge."

"If that is what Beaver Tail is trying to tell us in this picture
writing, Dick, the rest of the screed must simply go on to explain it a
little further."

"You notice that the same figure with the hat occurs always," continued
Dick, as he examined the message again. "Here is what must stand for
a fire, and two persons are sitting beside it, as if cooking. In what
seems to be a clump of bushes close by he has drawn that man again,
this time lying flat."

"That must mean that Francois is spying on the pair by the fire,"
suggested Roger, "and as he has made both of them wear caps with '<DW53>
or squirrel tails dangling down behind, I think they are meant to
represent us."

"There can be no question about it," admitted the other, deeply
interested. "And, going further, we see the snake in the grass creeping
up as if he meant to surprise the two, who are now sleeping, for they
lie flat on the ground."

"Yes, even the fire burns low, for there is hardly any blaze," added
Roger, "which indicates that the hour is late. Why, Dick, we can read
the story as easily as any sign in the woods we ever tackled."

"Then comes another scene," continued Dick, "where the creeper has
evidently sprung with uplifted knife, upon his intended prey, taken
unawares. After that, we can see him crawling away, and there are two
figures lying stretched out on the ground close to the now dead fire.
That needs no explanation, Roger; Francois Lascelles seeks our lives,
because we baffled him in his scheme to win a fortune at the expense of
our folks at home!"

The two boys looked at each other. Their eyes may have seemed troubled,
but there was no sign of flinching about them. The lads had met too
many perils in times past to shrink, now that they were face to face
with another source of danger.

"Shall we keep on now for the camp, and show this message on the bark
to Captain Lewis?" asked Roger.

"It would be the best thing to do, for he can advise us," his companion
admitted. "Besides, he will surely order every one in the camp to keep
an eye out for Francois Lascelles."

"We ought to take this brave with us, Dick, because he has come a long
way, and is hardly fit to return without rest and food."

Once again did Dick endeavor to make the Sioux warrior comprehend what
he wished him to do. He urged him to get upon his feet, then thrust an
arm through that of the brave, after which he nodded his head, pointed
to the north, made gestures as though feeding himself, and then started
to walk away, still holding on to the other.

Of course it was easy for the Indian to understand that they wished
him to accompany them to their camp, where he would receive food and
attention. He simply gave a guttural grunt, nodded his head, and fell
in behind Dick, after the customary Indian method of traveling in
single file. Then they moved along, Roger bringing up the rear.

Little was said while they tramped onward, heading for the camp. Dick
occupied himself with making sure that he held to the right direction.
He also found much food for thought in the startling information that
Beaver Tail had taken the pains to send all these miles to his young
friends.

In due time they came in sight of the camp where the expedition had
passed the preceding winter. Rude cabins had sheltered them from the
cold and the snow, both of which had been quite severe in this northern
latitude. Some distance beyond lay the Mandan village, always a source
of deepest interest to the two boys. It contained so many strange
things, and the lads had never become weary of trying to understand the
ways of these "White Indians." (Note 4.)

Upon seeing the boys come in with a strange Indian in their company,
many curious glances were cast in their direction. Going straight to
the cabin where the two leaders of the expedition lived, the boys were
fortunate enough to find Captain Lewis busily engaged in making up his
log for the preceding day, though of course there was little that was
new to record.

To the surprise of the boys the Sioux Indian produced another bark
scroll from his ditty bag, which he handed to Captain Lewis. This fact
convinced Dick that the brave must have been with the party in the
fall, for he seemed to know that the white man he faced was the "big
chief."

"What does all this mean, my boys?" asked the captain, looking puzzled.

"We met with an accident in the rapids, and had to swim out," replied
Dick. "Then, on the way back to camp, we came upon this Sioux brave
in a tree with a dozen hungry wolves jumping up at him. We chased the
wolves off, and looked after his wounds, when to our surprise he handed
us this message from his chief, Beaver Tail."

The captain examined the picture writing with considerable interest.
He had been taking considerable pains since mingling with the Mandans
to understand their ways, and this crude but effective method of
communication had aroused his curiosity on numerous occasions.

"Read it to me, if you managed to make it out, Dick," he told the boy,
who only too willingly complied.

The captain frowned upon learning that, despite his solemn warning, the
French trader had returned to the neighborhood. That look boded ill for
Francois Lascelles, should he ever have the hard luck to be caught in
the vicinity of the camp.

The captain's own communication from the Sioux chief was merely meant
for an expression of goodwill. Two figures, one plainly a Sioux
chieftain, and the other a soldier, were seen to be grasping hands as
though in greeting. Beaver Tail by this crude method of picture writing
evidently intended to convey the meaning that he had not forgotten his
friend, the white chief, and, also, that he had kept his word that the
Sioux should remain on peaceful terms with the travelers.

"But you spoke of meeting with an accident in the rapids," Captain
Lewis presently remarked. "That is something strange for clever boys
like you to experience. Did you miscalculate the danger, or was it
something that could not be helped?"

"We closely examined our buffalo hide canoe yesterday, and it was in
perfect condition, Captain," said Dick. "Yet, with only a slight blow
against a perfectly smooth rock, it split open, and we had to jump
overboard. We managed to get through the rough water safely, and drew
the damaged boat ashore. Imagine our surprise and consternation, sir,
when we found that a sharp-pointed knife blade had been run along the
bottom of the canoe, making a deep cut that had easily given way when
we struck the rock."

"You startle me when you say that, Dick," remarked the captain, looking
uneasy, though almost immediately afterward his jaws became set in a
determined fashion, while his eyes gleamed angrily. "It must mean that
we have a traitor in the camp; some one who has been bought by the gold
of Francois Lascelles."

"That was what we began to fear, Captain," Dick continued, "and we
believed it only right to let you know what happened to us. We hope you
will send some of the Indians, and one of our men, for the canoe. It
could be brought secretly to the camp and examined, without the guilty
one knowing about it."

"A good idea, my boy, and one I shall act upon at once. Say nothing
to a single soul concerning this outrage. If we expect to catch the
traitor napping, he must not be put on his guard. But none of us could
feel safe, knowing we had a snake in our midst. Depend upon it, the
truth is bound to come out, and, when once we learn his identity, the
traitor will be kicked out of the camp, if nothing worse happens to
him."

With this assurance the two boys rested content. They knew Captain
Lewis was a man of his word, and felt sure that the man who had sold
his loyalty for a sum of money offered by the French trader would
before long rue the evil day he allowed himself to be thus tempted.

Soon afterward they saw Captain Clark and his companion officer in
conference, after which the former went over to the Mandan village,
and, later on, vanished in the dense forest accompanied by two stalwart
braves. They had gone, the boys knew to secure the hide canoe that told
the story of treachery in the camp.




CHAPTER VI

STALKING THE BUFFALO


ON the following day orders were given to prepare to start once more
in the direction of the beckoning West. There was not much to be done,
for, knowing that their departure would soon be ordered, the men had
for some time past been getting things in readiness.

Dick and Roger had looked their few possessions over, and were ready
to move on short notice. It gave the boys a little feeling of distress
to realize that they would be thus placing additional ground between
themselves and those dear ones left at home near the mouth of the
Missouri.

"But we have embarked on the trip," said Dick, when his chum was
speaking of this as something he did not like very much, "and must see
it through now. When we do get back home again, if we are so fortunate,
think of all the wonderful things we shall be able to describe."

The coming of Captain Lewis just then interrupted their confidential
talk. Dick expected that their leader had something of importance to
communicate, and he could give a pretty accurate guess concerning its
nature.

Sure enough, the first words spoken by the President's private
secretary explained the nature of his visit to the cabin of the
Armstrong boys.

"I had an opportunity to examine your canoe, and there can be no reason
to doubt that some unknown miscreant planned to have you lose your
lives in the rapids. It was cleverly done, and at night-time doubtless,
when no one would be apt to notice him working with your boat. The
knife went in just deep enough to weaken the whole skin of the bottom,
and only a slight blow was needed to finish the treacherous work."

"Of course you have not been able to place your hand on the guilty
party, Captain, have you?" asked Roger, eagerly.

"Nothing has been found out so far," came the reply. "One of my
reasons for joining you just now is to ask if either of you have any
suspicions. Although of course we could not accuse any one on such
grounds alone, at the same time it might narrow our search, and focus
attention on the guilty one, so that he could be watched, and caught
in the act."

"We do not feel able to say positively, Captain Lewis," said Dick,
"but when we came to look over the entire membership of the company
we finally figured it out that it must lie between three men. All the
others seemed to be above suspicion in our eyes."

"Tell me who they are, so that I can have them watched," demanded the
commander.

"There is, first of all, Drewyer, the Canadian scout. He never seemed
to be very friendly with us, for some reason or other, though we have
had no quarrel. You are surprised to hear me mention his name, because
you have always trusted him fully. And the chances are, Captain, that
Drewyer is as faithful as the needle to the pole. I only include him
because we know so little about him."

"Who is the next one you have on your list?" asked Captain Lewis. "I
count considerably on your natural sagacity to help in running this
traitor to earth. You boys have learned pretty well how to judge men
from their actions and looks, rather than from their fair speech. Tell
me the other names, please, Dick."

"Fields is the second man. I base my right to include him in the group
from the fact that there was a time when my cousin, here, and Fields
had hot words over something the trapper had been doing in the village,
and which Roger took him to task for. Since that time they have been on
speaking terms, but I do not think Fields likes us over much."

"I should regret very much to learn that Fields had turned traitor, for
I have in the past been ready to trust him to any extent," remarked
Captain Lewis.

"The third and last man is Andrew Waller," continued Dick. "Now, we
have never had a word with Andrew except in the best of ways. We have
always looked on him as a loyal friend, and faithful to the trust you
put in him. It has only been of late that both of us noticed that
Andrew seems to try to avoid us, and when we do meet face to face he
lets his eyes drop."

"That is indeed a suspicious fact," commented the other, quickly. "If
money has tempted him to play the part of a traitor it is easy to
understand how he cannot look you squarely in the eye. Conscience flays
him every time he sees you near by. I shall certainly bear in mind what
you have told me, and in due time results may spring from keeping a
close watch on the movements of these three men."

With that Captain Lewis left the boys, but they felt sure he would
not allow the matter to drop. The man whom President Jefferson had
personally selected to manage this big enterprise, and who had been his
own private secretary, was accustomed to getting results whenever he
attempted anything.

It was on the following morning that camp was broken, and the
expedition once more started forward--down the Yellowstone to the
Missouri, and up that muddy stream again. That was an event of vast
importance in the lives of those daring souls who were thus venturing
to plunge deeper into the mysteries of the country that up to then had
never known the imprint of a white man's foot.

Although filled with exultation, as were the rest of the travelers,
Dick and his cousin looked back to see the last of the weird Mandan
village which had long been a source of delight to their eyes. It was
with considerable regret that they took their farewell view of the
painted lodges, as well as the Indian cemetery on the side of the hill,
where all those platforms, bearing their mummy-like burdens wrapped in
buffalo hides, told of superstitions that were a part of the Mandan
nature.

During that day they made considerable progress, and the first camp
of the new trail was pitched on a ridge close to the river. Here the
horses were put out to graze, and the boats drawn up on the shore,
though a guard was constantly kept to insure against treachery.

Despite the apparent friendship shown by many of the Indian tribes
they encountered on their long journey of thousands of miles, the two
captains never fully put their trust in the red men. They believed
them as a rule to be treacherous, and unable to resist pilfering if
the opportunity offered. Especially was this true when the coveted
object was a horse or a "stick that spat fire," as the wonderful
"shooting-irons" of the explorers were generally called.

Several days passed with nothing to break the monotony of the journey.
Of course they often met with minor difficulties, but these were
speedily overcome by a display of that generalship which had so far
made the trip a success.

All this while the boys had not forgotten about the spy in the camp.
Without appearing to do so, they kept a watch upon the three men upon
whom suspicion had fallen. Had any one of them offered to leave camp
after nightfall, he would have been trailed by Dick and Roger, bent on
learning what could be the object of his wandering, and whether he had
an appointment with Francois Lascelles, the Indian trader.

But, as the days drifted along, and nothing happened, they began to
cherish hopes that perhaps the accident to their canoe had been rather
an act of vandalism and malice than part of a deep plan to bring about
their death.

A week after leaving the winter camp the party found itself on the
border of a wide plain. Dick and Roger were mounted and were on a
slight elevation down which they expected to pass to the level ground
near the river, and await the coming of the boats. From here they could
see for a considerable distance around.

"Look at the herds of buffaloes feeding here and there, Dick!"
exclaimed Roger, whose hunting instincts were easily aroused. "It
strikes me we heard Captain Clark say the fresh meat was getting low
again. What do you say to trying to knock over one or two of those fine
fellows?"

"We would have to go a considerable distance to do it, then," the other
told him, "and leave our horses in the bargain, because they are not
used to approaching such fierce-looking animals as buffalo bulls."

"But we might be lucky enough to get one or two yearlings," persisted
Roger, who dearly loved the excitement of the hunt, as well as the
taste of the well-cooked meat when meal time came. "I think we could
manage to load our animals down with the spoils, and easily reach the
place where our friends mean to camp for the night."

Dick looked around him before replying to this tempting proposal. He
remembered that they had need to use particular care while away from
the main body of explorers; but so far as indications went he could
not discover the slightest sign of danger. Certainly there was nothing
to be feared from Francois Lascelles out there on that wide stretch
of plains, where in various places they could see timid antelopes and
clumsy buffaloes feeding amidst the isolated stands of timber which
dotted the landscape.

"I see nothing to hinder our making the attempt, Roger," he finally
remarked.

"Then you agree, do you, Dick?" eagerly demanded the other young
explorer, as he caressed his gun, and cast a happy look over the
panorama that was spread in front of them.

"Let's figure out just where our best chance lies, before we make a
start," he was told. "We have to keep in mind that it's necessary to
hide our mounts, so we can creep up on the herd close to some motte of
timber."

The boys had more than once shot the great, shaggy animals that in
those early days abounded in countless thousands on the prairies of
the Far West. Their fathers had hunted buffaloes while on the trail
from Virginia to the banks of the Ohio when boys no older than Dick and
Roger. Hence they were familiar with the habits of the animals which
they now meant to stalk.

Choosing their course so as to keep a patch of cottonwoods between
themselves and the small herd they had picked out as their prey, the
two boys urged their horses on at a smart pace. In several quarters
they could see the swift-footed antelopes vanishing at a surprising
pace, frightened by the approach of these strange animals, bearing
riders on their backs, the like of which they possibly had never beheld
before that day.

The buffaloes, however, were not so easily alarmed. Unless they saw
an enemy for themselves, or scented something that caused them
uneasiness, they were likely to hold their ground where they chanced to
be feeding. (Note 5.)

Finally the boys decided it was no longer safe to take their horses
with them. The animals were accordingly secured in a patch of timber,
and the lads, still screened by the other motte, set forth on foot.

They had possibly a quarter of a mile to walk before reaching their
intended shelter, from the other side of which they hoped to be able
to fire upon some of the nearest of the herd. The old grass still lay
on the ground, dead and brown; but shoots of the new spring crop had
begun to thrust their heads up between. It was on this tender green
stuff that the buffaloes were browsing, and, as it grew more freely in
certain places, such a fact would account for their presence near the
timber.

The one thing Dick and Roger had to be careful about was the chance of
any straggler from the herd discovering them, and with a bellow giving
the alarm. In order to avoid this if possible, Dick and his chum bent
low as they advanced, and kept a wary lookout on either side of the
timber.

The breeze blew from the trees toward them. This fact they had made
sure of before starting, because, otherwise, such is the sense of
smell in the buffaloes they would not have had the least chance of
getting within shooting distance of the wary animals, who generally
feed facing the wind.

When finally the boys arrived at the edge of the timber they believed
everything was working as well as they could wish. As yet no sound
had come to their ears that would indicate alarm on the part of their
intended quarry; and Roger allowed himself to indulge in high hopes of
a hunters' feast that night, with buffalo meat in plenty as the main
dish.




CHAPTER VII

HUNTERS, ALL


"LOOK, Dick, we are not the only hunters," whispered Roger, as he
tugged at the sleeve of his cousin's tunic, and pointed with his rifle.

There was a slight movement in the undergrowth just ahead of them.
Dick, looking in that direction, was surprised to see a crouching
animal slink away. He instantly recognized it as a gray timber wolf,
and knew the animal must have been hiding there in hopes of seizing
upon some sort of game.

As a single wolf, however daring, would never attempt to attack a
buffalo, Dick could not understand at first what the animal meant to
do. He judged, however, that, as this was the spring of the year,
possibly there were calves in the herd, which would be just the tender
sort of food that the sleek prowler would delight to secure.

The animal drew back his lips at the boys, disclosing the cruel white
fangs; but he knew better than to attack such enemies and slunk
swiftly away. After he slid into a thicker part of the brush the boys
lost sight of him, for the time at least.

Bent upon finding a place where they could get a fair shot at such
animals as seemed best suited to their needs, the boys crept along. The
patch of timber was not of any great size, and already they could see
the open prairie between the standing trees.

Again did the keen-eyed Roger make a sudden discovery that caused
him to grip once more the arm of his companion and point. This time,
however, he did not speak even in a whisper, for they were very close
to the edge of the motte, and for all they knew some buffalo might be
lying within twenty feet of them.

What Dick saw, as he turned his eyes in the direction indicated,
surprised him very much. Apparently the tempting bait had drawn another
savage hunter to the spot in hopes of securing a meal.

It was no Indian brave who sprawled upon the lowermost limb of that
tree, but the lithe figure of a gray animal which Dick instantly
recognized as a panther, and an unusually big one at that.

The beast was staring hard at them. It did not move, or offer to attack
them, but, just as the wolf had done, it bared its teeth.

The boys were not looking for trouble with a brute of this type just
then. Food alone held their thoughts and governed their movements. On
that account Dick did a very wise thing when, drawing his companion
aside, he made a little detour.

The boys crept as softly as though born spies. Hardly a leaf fluttered
as they moved along, and certainly no stick cracked under their weight,
for these lads had long ago learned all that woodcraft could teach them.

Both cast many a curious glance to the right and to the left, as though
wondering what next they would come upon in the way of hungry, envious
beasts.

After a little while Dick turned again toward the front, and began
to make his way to the edge of the timber. He had noticed that, at a
certain point, the dead grass extended some thirty feet away from the
trees, and offered splendid shelter to any one who knew how to utilize
it.

Taking an observation after he had crawled forward to the very edge
of the timber, Dick found that the nearest animals were some little
distance away. He could count a dozen of them in sight, and there were
two small calves frisking about their mothers.

Although the grass might be exceptionally fine close up to the trees,
the temptation to feed in closer was resisted by the buffaloes. They
seemed to know by some intuition that danger was apt to lurk where
timber grew, especially for the tender calves.

In order to make sure of their shots, it was desirable for the boys to
crawl out amidst that dead grass. Dick could see that it offered the
finest kind of shelter, and, once they reached its furthermost limit,
the chances of making sure shots would be just that much enhanced.

Flattening themselves out upon the ground they crept along on their
hands and knees. An inexperienced hunter could never have performed
the task without attracting the attention of the feeding buffaloes,
and causing a stampede; but the Armstrong boys had learned how to
accomplish the feat.

Now and then a cautious observation was taken, and these glances
painted the scene vividly on the minds of the creeping boys. They could
see the coveted yearling cows that it was their object to secure, the
other, older members of the herds, and, towering above all, the old
bull who ruled the herd.

This last was a terrible object, with the shaggiest mane the boys had
ever seen on a buffalo. He showed the scars of numerous fierce battles,
and one of his short black horns had been twisted out of shape in some
former combat, so that it gave him a peculiarly wicked appearance.

Of course, when picking out their game, neither of the hunters had
the slightest idea of aiming for the patriarch of the herd. He would
be much too tough a morsel for any one to chew, unless reduced to the
point of actual starvation, when he might be preferable to slicing up
one's moccasins for soup.

The old fellow seemed to understand his business as acknowledged
guardian of the herd. He moved hither and thither, and, every once in
so often, stopped to look around him, as though in search of signs of
trouble.

Then he would shake his great head, give a proud snort of conscious
power, strike at the ground several times with one of his forefeet, and
finally go on with his feeding.

By this time the hunters had arrived at the point where to proceed
further would be to accept unnecessary risk of detection. They knew
well that, once the alarm was given, the whole herd would quickly be in
motion.

While they might possibly succeed in a shot taken at a moving target,
the chances of a miss were much greater than they cared to take. So
Dick concluded the time had come for them to pick out their quarry,
take deliberate aim, and then fire as close together as possible.

A moving form attracted their attention close to the trees. It was the
hungry wolf, possibly seeking some new shelter. If the feeding animals
noticed the gray form at all they paid little heed to his presence,
having contempt for a single wolf. It would have been at the risk of
his life for the wolf to make a dash out toward the herd. Hungry though
he probably was, the slinking beast must have known this, for, after
giving a stretch to his head, as though longingly sniffing the air, he
crept once more back into the shelter of the timber.

Roger chuckled to himself, though deep down in his boyish heart he felt
sorry for that hunger-tempted wolf. He was also thinking that, if their
plans turned out well, they would leave a feast behind sufficient to
satisfy the appetites of both panther and wolf.

One last survey Dick took of the open stretch before them. He noticed
that the old bull was sniffing the air suspiciously just then. Whether
he had caught traces of their presence, or it was the fact of the
prowling wolf that began to bother the bull, Dick could not say.

In fact, things had by now reached a stage where he did not think it
mattered. Directly before them, and in plain sight, were two of the
yearlings, one of them a fine, sturdy-looking young bull.

Dick, as soon as he clapped his eye on this animal, selected him as his
intended victim. He knew that such a prize would be a choice morsel
for the camp; and, for that reason, he meant that his aim should be
particularly sure when the moment arrived to shoot.

"Leave the young bull to me, Roger," he whispered under his breath.

"Just as you say, Dick," came the equally cautious reply, as both
rifles were brought slowly up to the boys' shoulders.

The leader of the herd stamped his forefoot angrily on the ground and
made the turf fly. Plainly his suspicions had been aroused.

Dick knew they must delay no longer. The bull acted as though about to
give the alarm that would cause the whole herd to scamper wildly off.
Now the guns were leveled, and the cheek of each hunter lay alongside
the stock.

"Ready?" asked Dick, softly.

"Yes," came the immediate reply.

"Then let go!"

Crash!

Both guns let go almost as one, and the feeding herd was thrown into a
wild panic.




CHAPTER VIII

CHARGED BY A BULL


THE first thing the boys noticed was the fact that two of the great
beasts had gone down in answer to their shots. The camp was likely to
have an abundance of fresh meat that night at least.

[Illustration: "'RUN FOR THE TREES, ROGER!' SHOUTED DICK"]

Then another thing drew their attention.

"Look at the bull!" cried Roger suddenly, as he noticed that the
guardian of the herd was plunging in their direction as though bent on
seeking a prompt revenge for the loss of his charges.

The predicament of the boys was not at all to their liking. Without a
bullet in their guns, and with a maddened bull bearing down upon them
at full speed, unless they made a rapid retreat to the timber they were
in danger of being gored and trampled by the horns and hoofs of the
beast.

"Run for the trees, Roger!" shouted Dick, as he himself turned and made
for the timber.

Fortunately they were not far from shelter. Roger had before been,
inclined to lament the fact that the mass of dead grass did not allow
them to creep closer to the game, but he changed his mind now, when
every yard counted against them.

Once Roger caught his foot somehow, and fell flat. Dick seemed to
know it, although his back was turned to his chum at the time, for
he instantly stopped in his headlong rush and whirled around. It was
his intention to stand by his comrade, come what would, to divert, if
necessary, the attention of the charging animal until such time as
Roger could gain his feet.

It turned out that the sacrifice was not needed, for, nimble as a cat,
Roger gained his feet like a flash, and, putting on a fresh spurt,
succeeded in reaching the outermost trees as soon as Dick.

They were none too soon. The galloping buffalo was close at their
heels. Had the friendly timber been ten paces further off there might
have been a different story to tell.

Each boy chose a tree behind which he tried to shield himself. The bull
rushed past, but immediately came to a halt, turned and started to
chase Roger around the tree which he had taken for a guard.

"Faster, Roger, faster!" called Dick, alarmed lest the animal overtake
the boy.

This shout caused the bull to take notice of his other enemy, and he
plunged directly toward Dick, who was compelled to make circles around
his shelter at a lively pace, in order to keep from being impaled on
those wicked-looking short black horns.

Having the inside track the boy of course was given an advantage, but
it seemed as though that tough old monster would never tire. He kept
on circling the tree, making savage <DW8>s at the legs of his intended
quarry whenever Dick lagged a little, or, slipping, fell back a step or
so.

Roger started just then to give tongue at the top of his voice,
thinking that it was not altogether fair to have the game so one-sided.
His generous intention was to attract the animal once more toward
himself; and in this he fully succeeded.

Now it was Roger who danced a tune that was far from being a stately
minuet. Lively boy that he was, that old rascal of a buffalo bull put
him to his best paces in order to keep out of danger.

Roger was hard to subdue even at such a time as this. It would have
seemed to be the part of wisdom to conserve every atom of his breath
for the work before him, yet he was continually bursting out with
shouts to his comrade.

"Did you ever see anything so mad as he is, Dick?" he called.

"Be careful, Roger; he almost got you that time, when he drove his head
against the tree. It may seem like a frolic to you, but the danger is
there all the same!"

"It's the greatest race I ever had, barring none!" gasped the other, as
he continued to dodge the horns that were forever trying to catch him
off his guard.

"Better throw your gun away, for it's likely to trip you!" advised
Dick; and hardly had the words escaped his lips than there came another
sudden change of tactics on the part of the charging bull, with Dick
again doing the dodging.

Roger took this occasion to change his tree, selecting one that offered
a little better chance for making a speedy circuit, for of course he
anticipated soon coaxing the infuriated animal to turn back on him.

There had been another reason for his change of base which was made
apparent a little later on. Dick was making splendid time around
that trunk. He also managed to keep a close watch upon his shaggy
antagonist, and was thus able to anticipate the latter when, with a
sudden stop and a whirl the bull sought to catch him napping and come
up in the rear.

"Dick, I've got a plan!" cried Roger.

"Tell me what it is then," panted the other, plainly distressed for
want of breath, for the constant struggle to avoid the horns of the
bull was telling on him.

"I must get him started after me again, you see," Roger commenced to
explain.

"Yes, of course!" Dick managed to say as he found a few seconds of
relief while the animal stood pawing the ground, and apparently
debating within his mind what course he should take next.

"I'm a little the more agile, you see," continued Roger, "and likely to
tire him out in the end, if put to it."

"All very well," Dick told him, "but where do I come in?"

"Oh! I figured on your loading your gun, and fixing him in a hurry!"
said Roger, with a laugh.

Dick even joined in that expression of merriment. Strange that up to
then neither of them seemed to have given the first thought to the fact
that he gripped a fire-arm in his hand, which it would take only a
short time to put in serviceable condition.

"Well said, Roger! and, if you can coax the old fellow to make a change
in his program, I'll look after the gun part of the affair, I promise
you."

"Look out, he's after you again, Dick!"

Dick knew that long before Roger could get the words of warning framed,
and he was speedily making his rapid circuits around the tree with the
snorting animal hot on his heels.

With the intention of carrying out his part of the arrangement Roger
now started to shout and make all manner of derisive gestures by which
he hoped to attract the attention, and excite the ire, of the raging
animal.

It was some time before this maneuver met with the success Roger hoped
for, but in the end he managed to coax the bull into making a dash
toward his tree. Thereupon Roger exerted himself to keep the animal
busy, so that Dick should not be interrupted in his task.

In order to do this the better he kept up his jeering cries, and, when
he found the chance, even made thrusts at the beast with his long gun,
once striking him smartly on the head.

The pace was beginning to tell on the buffalo. His powers of endurance
had diminished since that eventful day when in mortal combat he had
slain the old guardian of the herd, and usurped his position of trust.

Meanwhile Dick was far from being idle.

He had, as soon as the attention of the bull was diverted, swung his
powder horn around, after removing the wooden stopper, and carefully
measured out a charge. This he managed to pour down the barrel of his
rifle, after which, from the cavity in the stock of the weapon, he took
a greased patch in which the bullet was to be enclosed. After that the
ramrod was used to punch the bullet down into the interior of the long
barrel until it finally lodged snugly upon the powder charge.

Nothing remained but the priming, which was a brief matter at the most;
and Dick was gladdened by the thought that now he held in his hand the
means for terminating that ridiculous dance which the old bull was
leading Roger.

A tree interfered somewhat with his view, and Dick ran a little closer,
in order to make certain of his aim. Dropping on one knee after the
fashion of expert marksmen of the day, he waited until there came a
little lull in the mad chase.

"Now you can get him, Dick!" called Roger, between his gasps for
breath, as the bull stopped short to strike again his hoof violently
against the ground.

It was the opening the pioneer boy had been waiting for, and
immediately the long gun shot out a puff of smoke as the report
sounded. The buffalo had been hit in a vital spot, for he fell to the
ground without even one jump.

Roger started to give a triumphant shout, when he cut it short,
for something had leaped through the air; and, upon looking at the
still-quivering body of the stricken bull, what was the boy's surprise
to see a crouching figure fastened upon it, and to hear the vicious
snarl of the savage panther as, with ears pressed back against his
head, he glared defiantly at the young hunter.




CHAPTER IX

PLANNING A SURPRISE


"MORE trouble ahead!" cried Roger, starting back, for he did not fancy
a hand-to-hand conflict with that furious beast, intent on claiming the
game that had fallen to Dick's gun.

"Do nothing rash!" admonished the other, who knew the headstrong ways
of his cousin, and wished to prevent any action that might precipitate
a struggle.

"But see how the beast acts! As if he owned the earth, Dick!"

"Well, what of it?" came the steady reply, for Dick was hastening his
reloading operations while talking, something Roger did not seem to
have thought of.

"But you shot the bull, Dick," urged the other.

"Then I make of him a present to our friend, the big cat," Dick told
him. "We have quite enough meat out on the open, all we can manage.
Besides, I pity your teeth if you ever try to bite into the flesh of
that tough old rascal. Move around, and let the cat be. That's all he
asks of us."

"But, Dick, I don't like to let it seem as though the two of us were
afraid of just a hungry panther," remonstrated Roger, who was proud of
his valor.

"Oh! for that matter, there's the poor old wolf, you remember. And in a
short time the air will be black with buzzards coming to the feast from
a distance of miles around. Let good enough alone, as I've heard your
mother tell you, many's the time."

Grumbling a little, and sending more than one aggressive look backward
toward the audacious panther, Roger finally agreed to accompany his
chum out to where the other victims lay.

The rest of the herd had galloped away, and were far distant by this
time, though now lacking a gallant protector. And, lying where they
had fallen, were the yearling bull and another, for both boys had made
capital shots.

"What shall we do first?" asked Roger.

"I want to see you charge that rifle of yours before we start a single
thing," he was told bluntly by his companion.

"Oh! I had forgotten that part of the game, but you know I generally
do reload without any loss of time, Dick. I learned that long years
ago, and many a time, as I can distinctly remember, it saved me a heap
of trouble."

This duty having been accomplished, Roger waited to hear what they
were to attempt next; for as a rule he was content to let Dick do the
planning.

"While you go and fetch the horses, Roger, I'll start to cutting up
this fine young bull. You've got your bearings, of course, and know
just where we left our mounts?"

"I surely do know," the other replied, "and I'll have them here before
long. If I were you, Dick, I'd keep one eye out for that slippery beast
of a panther. For all any one can say, he may take a notion that he
prefers tender meat to tough. And that I'd call carrying the joke too
far."

"Depend on it, Roger, I'll keep my gun handy all the while, and, if Mr.
Panther gives me any trouble, I'll be tempted to waste a bullet on him.
Get back as soon as you can, that's all."

With that advice ringing in his ears Roger hurried off, while Dick,
drawing his hunting knife with the buckhorn handle, proceeded to first
remove most of the skin of the young bull, so that it could be used
to wrap around the meat. After this he started to cut away such choice
portions as he meant to keep.

Every now and then as was his habit, he raised his head to take a quick
glance around; but neither the panther nor the wolf came into sight.
Evidently the hungry animals were not excessively particular about the
tenderness of their meat, if only the supply proved sufficient.

Roger came galloping up after a bit, leading the second horse. The
animal did considerable snorting, as horses always will when they scent
freshly spilled blood; but Roger knew how to stake them out so that
they could not wander away.

After that he commenced dressing the second buffalo, also a yearling.
Since both boys had had considerable experience in this, they made fair
work, and the two piles of fresh meat mounted up by degrees.

It was just as well, for evening was not far away now, the day having
drawn on toward its close. Off yonder, in the glowing west, the sun was
sinking, and beginning to paint the fleecy white clouds a vivid red
that had strange fluted columns running up and down. To the imagination
of the two boys these were the beckoning fingers that tempted them
always, just as the rainbow for ages past has promised a pot of gold to
him who could find the spot where its foot rested on the earth.

The two bundles of meat were tied securely, and fastened to the backs
of the prancing horses. Then the boys set off, expecting to strike the
camp of the expedition along the bank of the river.

As they passed the timber they could see something of a commotion
in the place where they had had their adventure with the savage old
buffalo bull. Dozens of big bald-headed birds were sitting on dead
limbs of the trees, now dropping awkwardly down to the ground, and anon
flapping back to their perches.

"The buzzards came, just as I thought they would," remarked Dick; "but
they'll have to wait for the second table, because that cat and the
wolf must first be served. When they can hold no more they may go away
and let the poor buzzards have a chance."

Dick did not have any particular trouble in finding his bearings.
It had been indelibly impressed on his mind that the river lay to
the north, and, with the setting sun on their left, it would be no
difficult task to find the water.

He had also figured out about where the boats and the horses would
bring up when the day's toll had been taken, so that he was now making
what he would have called a bee-line for that particular place.

The sun was down behind the level horizon at last, and shadows had
begun to creep out of their hiding-places. Roger began to feel a little
anxiety concerning their hoped-for arrival at the river.

"It seems to be further than I thought," he ventured to say presently.

"Meaning the river, I suppose," remarked Dick, calmly. "Yes, I expected
that it would take us some little time to get there, because there was
a big bend just at the place we left the water, on sighting that hill
which we climbed to look around for game."

"Dick, I believe I see something that flickers ahead of us!" exclaimed
Roger just then.

"It must be the light of the fires, which as usual have been built
below the river-bank, so that their glow may not betray the camp to
hostile eyes. Yes, just as you say, Roger, we are getting there, and
will be in on time."

"Oh! as to that, Dick," said the other with a laugh, "even if supper is
started they will be sure to switch off and give this fresh buffalo
meat the first showing. But, for one, I shall be glad to rest. After
all that prancing around my tree every muscle in my legs cries out in
pain, I do believe."

They were not long in arriving at the camp, and, when the campers found
what the packages that the horses carried contained, they greeted the
newcomers with cheery words of welcome and of thanks.

It was a lively scene, with the boats drawn up on the sandy beach under
the river-bank; the horses picketed out to graze; the tents that had
been erected to serve as sleeping quarters for the company; and the
blazing fires about which the cooks were starting to cook the evening
meal. For a background to the picture there was the ever-murmuring
river, and the boys, many a time, wished they were able to send a
loving message down those hundreds of miles to the little settlement of
St. Louis, where their loved ones dwelt.

They knew that a monumental task still lay before them, since the
terrible, rocky mountains, of which they had heard vague stories from
the Indians, had to be scaled, as well as trackless wastes of desert
land crossed, before they could hope to feast their eyes on the blue
sea which was their goal.

Still, the whole summer lay before them, and they had already
surmounted so many obstacles that nothing seemed to daunt those bold
spirits. Each day's journey they counted another link in the chain,
and, having virtually burned their bridges behind them, it became a
necessity that they succeed.

The supper was finally cooked, and those who were not on duty as guards
settled down to enjoy what had been prepared. As usual Dick and Roger
found places close together, for they were chums in everything, and
liked to chat while eating.

"This pays me for all my trouble with that old bull," remarked Roger as
he munched away. "Sweeter meat I never tasted, if I do say it myself."

"Oh! I agree with you there," Dick told him. "But I find myself
wondering why Captain Lewis keeps looking over this way so often. And
then, too, it strikes me he is unusually solemn to-night. What do you
say, Roger?"

"I hadn't noticed it before," came the reply presently, "but, now that
you call my attention to the fact, I really believe you are right. He
does look as if something had gone wrong. I wonder what could have
happened while we were away this afternoon."

"We may have to take it out in guessing," Dick observed, "unless the
Captain decides to tell us about it, which is hardly likely. But the
rest of the men seem to be noisier and in better humor than usual.
There's Andrew Waller keeping a lot of them roaring with laughter as he
tells some comical story. I never saw him so lively, come to think of
it."

About the time all of them were through eating, Dick discovered that
Captain Meriwether Lewis was walking directly toward the spot where he
and his chum still sat. A couple of convenient stones had afforded them
resting places; but, as the commander of the expedition paused beside
them, both lads immediately sprang to their feet, courteously offering
the captain a seat.

"I will accept if one of you can sit tailor-fashion on the ground,"
remarked Captain Lewis, but without any sign of merriment in his
voice, for he was still looking very grave. "I want to speak with both
of you lads, and it is concerning a subject in which you are deeply
interested."

Of course that aroused their curiosity at once, and Roger lost no
time in dropping upon the sand, where he could make himself fairly
comfortable.

As soon as they were all seated again the captain began:

"While you two boys were away on your hunt this afternoon, something
happened which deepened my suspicion that we have a traitor among us.
By a mere accident I picked up a bit of paper that some one must have
drawn from his pocket unknown to himself. Glancing idly at it I was
startled at what I read."

He looked around him as though to make certain that no eye watched his
action, and then placed a small piece of paper, very much wrinkled and
soiled, in Dick's hand. Together the boys fastened their eyes on the
writing and made out the fragment of a sentence:

    "if you think it unsafe to stay longer in the camp, join us;
    but be sure and bring plenty of guns and ammunition along,
    for we need them."

There was no signature, but the boys did not doubt in the least that
the one whose hand had Penned this note of instructions was Francois
Lascelles or his equally rascally son, Alexis. The question was, who
could the recipient be, and how were they to find out.

"After you found this paper, Captain, you watched to see if any one
seemed to be searching for anything, I suppose?" Dick asked eagerly.

"All the afternoon I have kept on the alert, but, whoever the villain
is, he has either not discovered his loss, or else has assumed an
appearance of indifference in order to blind hostile eyes."

"But how do you suppose he could have received the message?" continued
Dick.

"That, too, may always remain a mystery," continued the other,
reflectively, "but an arrangement could have been made whereby certain
stones that were laid down in a peculiar manner would direct him to
search in a hollow stump or under a log for a letter. All we know is
that this traitor did receive his message, and started to tear it to
pieces, but on second thought kept part of the letter."

"It will be his undoing yet, sir, I think," Roger ventured to suggest.
"Too bad there was no name mentioned, so we could charge him with the
deed, and punish him as he deserves. I am wild to know who he is, for I
shall long remember how he tried to put an end to us in the rapids of
the Yellowstone."

"Perhaps you may, and that before another dawn comes," remarked the
captain, as he smiled indulgently at the headstrong boy, whom he had
come to like very much, as, indeed, he did Dick, also.

"That sounds as though you had made a plan of campaign, Captain," Dick
observed, with a pleased look that was only exceeded by the smile on
the face of his companion.

"I have laid out a little scheme which I think may work well, and trap
the guilty wretch in the toils," explained the captain. "You remember
the special mention made of guns and ammunition, which he was told to
take with him, if he really believed his usefulness in the camp had
come to an end? That gave me my clew."

"The bait will be a stock of powder and ball, and perhaps several guns,
unless I fail to catch your meaning, sir?" Dick continued.

"Before we go to sleep, to-night, I shall have three men, whose names
I need not mention, know that there are several good guns, and quite a
quantity of ammunition for them, in the supply tent where we keep our
extra provisions. It is not guarded beyond the fact that sentries are
posted outside the camp to watch for enemies. But to-night both of you
boys, together with myself and Captain Clark, will be in hiding, ready
to capture any one who ventures to enter that supply tent."

"Thank you for thinking of us, sir," exclaimed Roger, warmly.

"Why should I not do so, when the first intimation I received that
there was a traitor in the camp came through you two boys? And,
besides, you are more deeply interested in his capture and punishment
than any of the others, because this unknown spy is working hand and
glove with Francois Lascelles, who hates you most bitterly."

"Tell us what to do, Captain, and you can rely on our working with you
to the best of our ability," Dick assured the commander, who smiled at
him and went on to explain further.

"Understand then, that, later on, both of you, when not observed,
are to take your guns and disappear. I will look to find you in that
bunch of brush yonder to the right, and from that point we can watch
the supply tent until something happens. I think the bait will be
sufficiently attractive to tempt the man to make his move, meaning to
steal the guns and ammunition, after which he hopes to leave us in
the lurch. After we make sure that he is inside the tent, we can creep
up and face him as he comes out laden with his booty. That is enough,
since you understand," with which the captain laughingly arose to his
feet and sauntered away, leaving the boys thrilled through and through.




CHAPTER X

SPRINGING THE TRAP


"I WONDER if the plan will work?" remarked Roger, when he and Dick
once more found themselves alone, the captain having sauntered over to
where some of the men were joking, Andrew Waller being the life of the
company.

"If that torn part of a message meant anything," Dick told him, "and
Captain Lewis is able to bait the trap in the right way, I believe this
night will see the answer to the question that has been bothering us so
long."

"Meaning that we will learn who the traitor is?" continued the other.

"Yes. Right now we are no nearer the truth than a week ago, you know,
Roger. It may be any one of the three men we had in mind; or some one
else, for that matter."

"Look at Andrew Waller, Dick. He seems to be in high spirits! Do you
think that is all put on for effect? From the way he acts no one could
ever dream he had an evil thought in his heart for his comrades of the
long trail."

"As we exhausted that subject a long time ago, Roger, and have learned
nothing new since, there's no use trying to figure things out. Better
wait, and, as my father says, 'hold our horses' until the trap is
sprung--if it ever is."

"But, if we do trip him up," continued Roger, reflectively, "what do
you believe Captain Lewis will do to the wretch?"

"He has not given us even a hint on that score," Dick replied.

"If the man is a traitor, and really tried to take our lives for pay,
it seems to me it would be a shame if he were only drummed out of camp
for such things. I know what Captain Clark would do if it rested in his
hands."

"Yes, and I can guess the answer there, too, Roger; because he is a
soldier, with stern ideas of what treachery means. But Captain Lewis
has a tender heart, for all he can be so firm. He is very fond of the
men who have clung to his fortunes in this great journey into the
unknown country of the West."

"Do you really mean to say, Dick, he would forgive the rascal on that
account?" demanded Roger, with a frown of displeasure on his face.

"Not exactly that," hastily replied the other lad. "I am sure that
he would not want to trust such a man again, but, at the same time,
Captain Lewis would not believe it necessary to have the traitor shot,
as a soldier would."

"In that case there would be only one other thing to do," observed
Roger, disconsolately; "which would be to kick him out of camp, and
warn him, just as he did Lascelles, that if he ever allowed himself to
be seen near the camp again it would be at his peril."

"Mark my words, Roger, if we are lucky enough to catch the man in the
act, that is what will happen to him. But, before he goes, he will
listen to a ringing talk from Captain Lewis that will make his cheeks
burn."

"Yes, and not for all the money Lascelles ever owned would I want
to have such a fine man as Captain Lewis tell me that, as a traitor
to my trust, I had sunk down until I was beneath contempt. But I
wonder, Dick, how he will manage to let them know about the rifles and
ammunition in the supply tent?"

"Depend on it the captain has that arranged cleverly enough," Dick
declared, "and he will accomplish it without awakening any suspicion
that it has been done for a purpose."

"What shall we do next?" asked Roger.

"Wait for his signal as arranged with us," explained Dick. "When we
get that, it is our duty to slip out of camp without being noticed, and
settle down in that patch of brush, just as he said. Later on, he will
join us there, and bring Captain Clark with him."

They sat there and exchanged words for quite a long time, while the
evening waned, and some of the tired men, who had been poling or rowing
all day, began to creep into the tents, or, it might be, under rude
bough shelters, where they expected to sleep through the remainder of
the night.

"The time has come at last," said Dick, in a low tone.

"Did you see Captain Lewis make the gesture he explained to us?" asked
his chum.

"Yes, and now let us see how smartly we can carry out our part of the
game, as we laid it out in advance."

After surveying the field, the boys concluded that, by pretending to
settle down in a certain place, they could withdraw by degrees without
being noticed, and come up in the rear of the patch of bushes marked by
the commander as the meeting spot.

This maneuver was accomplished with considerable skill, because both
lads were well drilled in Indian ways, and could snake their way along
the ground as well as any painted brave on the warpath, seeking to spy
on the enemy's camp.

In due time, therefore, they crept into the bushes, and settled down
to await the coming of the two captains. Just as they expected, from
their place of hiding it was possible to keep a close watch upon the
supply tent, though the latter stood in the shadows, with the firelight
playing on one side of it only.

Slowly the minutes crept along. The boys rarely exchanged words, and
then only in the lowest of whispers; nor did they make any sort of
move, lest in some way keen eyes discover their presence amidst the
bushes.

It seemed ages before Roger pressed the arm of his cousin, and spoke in
his ear.

"Something moving behind us, Dick!"

The other had also caught a faint rustling sound, and knew that in all
probability the two captains must be about to join them. Surely enough,
in a short time the men reached the side of the boys, exercising all
the skill possible to avoid making their presence known to others.

Few words passed between them, for the plan of campaign had been laid
out, and each one knew what lay before them. The firelight flickered
upon the side of the supply tent, and it was in this quarter mostly
that their gaze was fastened. In fact, Captain Lewis and his fellow
officer depended wholly on the wide-awake boys to let them know when
anything happened, for they themselves lay stretched out at full length
upon the ground.

One by one the men sitting by the fire began to vanish, some yawning,
and others simply stretching themselves with the air of weariness
natural after a strenuous day at the oars.

Finally an atmosphere of desertion seemed to have come upon the camp.
The fire died down slowly, and not a movement could be seen. Somewhere,
near by, the appointed sentries stood guard, but their duty was
wholly in the line of making sure that an enemy did not surprise the
adventurous company from without. Those in the camp were supposed to be
above suspicion.

Roger was beginning to grow impatient. The minutes were dragging along,
so far as he was concerned, and he began to fear that, after all,
the scheme, so cleverly planned by Captain Lewis, would fail to be a
success.

What if the fellow had become suspicious, and determined not to allow
himself to be attracted by the bait? They would have their long night
vigil for nothing, and be no nearer to learning the truth than before.
Roger lacked the patience and perseverance of his chum, though he had
many good qualities of his own.

It must have been almost midnight when Dick caught sight of a shadowy
figure moving just beyond the supply tent. At first he thought it might
be a wolf that had boldly crept into the camp, though such a thing
seemed absurd; then he became satisfied that it must be a man on his
hands and knees, crawling along slowly, and heading for the isolated
tent.

When satisfied in this respect he whispered in the ear of Roger, and
touched both the recumbent captains on the arm. This had been a signal
agreed on in case of necessity, and, as they were on the alert, they
lost no time in making good use of their eyes.

The creeper was now close to the tent. Every few feet he would sink
down flat to the ground, and remain perfectly still for a time. No
doubt at such intervals the man was listening intently to discover the
slightest movement in the camp that might mean danger to him.

Both boys fairly held their breath when they saw the shadowy figure
reach the tent and hastily creep under the flap. Just how long it would
take him to find what he was after no one could say, but the time had
arrived for those who were watching the tent to make a forward move.

Fortunately the breeze started up just then, and rustled the leaves of
the trees overhead. It came from a quarter that also bore the sounds
of the fretting river, where rocky reefs impeded the progress of the
current; so that a combination of sounds helped to deaden any little
rustling noise the four watchers might make in rising to their feet and
moving forward.

Every detail had been arranged, and they made immediately for the
darker side of the tent. This was to avoid having their shadows appear
on the canvas, and arousing the suspicions of the thief.

Having taken up their positions here, they waited for what was to
follow, confident that the guilty one could not possibly escape them.

He could be heard moving around inside the tent. Once he upset some
object that fell to the ground with a soft thud, and they even heard
his low muttered exclamation of annoyance. After that all was still for
an interval, as doubtless he strained his hearing to learn whether the
sound had aroused any curiosity in the mind of a sentry.

Then the movements started again, proving that renewed confidence was
making the marauder bolder.

Dick and Roger had their guns ready, according to orders. If the man
attempted to escape after being ordered to surrender their duty would
be to shoot, although the endeavor would be to wound instead of to kill.

The movements within the tent had now ceased, and it was probable that
the man had secured all he sought to acquire. That meant his next act
would be to make his exit. Dick had not overlooked the chance of his
creeping under the canvas at the rear of the tent, and, if they failed
to see anything of him by the time another minute passed, he meant to
creep around and ascertain whether this had been attempted.

Roger, giving a faint gasp, warned his chum that some one was coming.
Then all of them caught sight of a dusky figure bending low as it crept
out of the tent.

"Stand still and surrender, or you are a dead man!" suddenly exclaimed
Captain Lewis, as, with his three companions, he stepped forward.

The thief made no attempt to run, for he knew what the result must be
when he saw those rifles in the hands of the two boys. So they pushed
up until they could make sure of his identity; and somehow neither
Roger nor Dick felt any great surprise when they discovered that the
man they had captured was Andrew Waller.




CHAPTER XI

BANISHED FROM CAMP


THE man held a couple of guns in his hands and was apparently loaded
down with the ammunition that had been left as a most attractive bait.
He hung his head as if at first overcome with a sense of shame; nor
could the boys blame him for giving way to this feeling.

Some of the other men, awakened by the loud command of Captain Lewis,
now came hurrying toward the spot. They were undoubtedly greatly
astonished to discover what was taking place. And among the first to
arrive were Drewyer and Fields, the two who in turn had been unjustly
suspected of being the guilty person.

"Take those guns away from him," ordered Captain Lewis, "and then
search him for ammunition! He was carrying off a good part of our
visible supply, and meant to join forces with those rascally Frenchmen
we let go last fall, fellows who are once more hanging about our trail
for evil purposes."

Waller made no attempt to resist. Indeed, it would have been a foolish
thing on his part, and could only have resulted in his being roughly
treated. So presently they had stripped him of all his stolen goods,
and even his own gun had been taken away.

After that he had to listen to the stinging words of reproach which
Captain Lewis heaped upon him.

"The man who betrays his trust as you have done, Waller," said the
other in conclusion, "deserves to be stood up before a file of soldiers
and shot. That fate, indeed, would be your portion if you were an
enlisted man, and had taken the oath of fidelity to the country. As it
is I intend simply to send you out of this camp with the scorn of all
honest men ringing in your ears. You can find those French friends of
yours and make your bed with them."

"But you will not think of turning me out into the wilderness without
some weapon with which to secure food, or to protect myself against
the wild beasts?" the man found his tongue to say, with anxiety in his
voice.

"Gun you shall have none, in punishment for your offense," he was
sternly told. "Your hunting knife and a hatchet will be given to you,
also a certain amount of provisions, sufficient to last you several
days. For the rest, look you to those friends whose gold you accepted
to betray these lads; for we can now understand who it was knifed their
skin boat so that it might sink with them in the rapids!"

The man at bay opened his mouth as though tempted to declare that he
had had nothing to do with such a base affair; but, on second thought,
he stifled his intended denial. He must have decided that, since
exposure had come, the less he had to say the better it would be for
him in the end.

Under the orders of Captain Lewis his knife and hatchet were returned
to him. Then a package of food was made ready and also given into
his charge. Some of the men were grumbling to themselves, as though
they did not approve of such leniency, for, according to their way of
thinking, a traitor deserved but one punishment, and one that would
place it out of his power to repeat his fault.

The man did not attempt to plead for mercy. He had a certain amount of
pride; and, besides, he feared lest he be turned over to the soldiers
for punishment, and he knew what to expect in that case.

"Now go forth," Captain Lewis told him, "and seek your new friends, or
join the Indians whose treacherous ways you have even shamed by your
acts. We warn you not to be seen again by any in this camp. Such is
your reward for turning against those who trusted you. That is all."

Waller drew a long breath. He knew what it meant for him, should he
fail to find the Frenchmen. Hundreds of miles lay between that spot and
the nearest white settlement; and, unless he could get in touch with
some of the Indian tribes along the Missouri, he would starve by the
time another winter came around.

Being a woodsman, Waller of course knew many of the secrets of Nature,
and could prolong his life by means of clever snares in which to catch
small animals; but, with the coming of cold weather, his case would be
pitiful unless he had help.

Dick felt sorry for the man at first. He believed Waller had simply
yielded to temptation when he accepted the Frenchman's gold and agreed
to work in his interest.

That feeling, however, did not last long, for, as the man started to
leave the camp, he looked at the staring men contemptuously, and, on
passing the two boys, scowled blackly, as the light of the resurrected
fire disclosed.

"We may meet again!" he told Roger as he passed him; and there was a
deep significance back of the words.

Perhaps it was fortunate for Andrew Waller that Captain Clark did not
happen to hear what he muttered; for the soldier might have insisted
that some more drastic punishment, than mere dismissal from the camp,
be visited upon the culprit. But the threat was not heard by those in
authority, and Waller went out into the darkness, and they saw no more
of him for the time.

During the remainder of the night the boys slept peacefully. It was a
great satisfaction to them both to feel that the mystery had now been
solved, and that they need no longer fear treachery in the camp.

Then again it pleased Dick to know that neither Drewyer nor Fields had
been connected with the plot against them, for he was very fond of
both men, in a way, and had always believed them to be as honest as
they were capable. History has written their names on the scroll of
honor whereby the heroes of this remarkable enterprise are ever to be
remembered.

On the following morning the journey was resumed. Day succeeded day,
and in many particulars they were very much alike. The travelers
had difficulties to surmount, and often met with delays that were
exasperating; but through it all shone that indomitable spirit that
would not admit defeat.

"We have come too far to quit now," Captain Lewis would say when they
were facing some new difficulty, "and the only thing to do is to push
ahead despite temporary checks. The goal will soon be in sight, and the
victory won. Then will come the reward when all men honor our names,
and give us our meed of praise. It will be worth all it costs to win
the thanks of the whole nation."

In this manner he cheered them when their spirits drooped. There never
could have been a finer leader for such a tremendous undertaking than
the former private secretary of President Jefferson. Every man in all
that company felt that he would willingly go through fire and flood for
Captain Lewis.

From time to time they met with Indians on the river, or came to some
village on the bank. These natives had never as yet seen white men, and
were, as a rule, disposed to be friendly. They seemed to have learned
about a Great Father far away toward the rising sun, who was very rich
and powerful, and whose favor it might pay them to seek.

Among the trappers connected with the party there were always those
who could communicate with the Indians, partly by signs, but also with
the aid of other and allied Indian tongues. In this way, then, it was
possible to learn much concerning the nature of the country toward the
west.

Strange, indeed, were many of the stories that came to the ears of the
travelers. They heard of burning deserts, where for ten days they would
find nothing but wastes of sand, except for a few cacti, or prickly
pears. Here they were likely to leave their bones to the vultures and
the prowling coyotes--the latter a small species of the wolf tribe,
which the men of the expedition had begun to notice collecting about
their camp at nights. These animals kept up a miserable chant in
chorus, but they possessed a very cowardly nature, quite unlike the
gray timber wolf.

If Captain Lewis and his followers had not possessed stout hearts they
would have been dismayed by all they heard of the country lying beyond.
The mountains reached above the clouds, rearing themselves in a most
forbidding way, and were exceedingly rocky and devoid of vegetation.

Besides, there were tribes of fierce Indians living in the deep canyons
who would lie in wait to overwhelm the pilgrims in hopes of obtaining
their horses and those wonderful sticks that spat out fire. The beasts
inhabiting those elevations were also awe inspiring, especially the
bears, which, as the travelers already knew, were of the ferocious
variety known as grizzlies.

In spite of all these thrilling stories there was no disposition
manifested on the part of the explorers to back down. They had already
met many perils without flinching, and it was too late now to show the
white feather.

The summer was now well along, and, before a great while, they could
expect to arrive at the headwaters of the Big Muddy. The two captains
had decided that, when it was no longer possible to continue with
the boats, they would make a permanent camp, where a portion of the
expedition could spend the coming winter, while a certain number
pushed on, to cross the rocky barrier and reach the sea, if such an
accomplishment could be carried out.

Every day began to see changes in the flowing current upon which they
had been voyaging for so many months. Remembering its extreme width,
down where their homes were located, it was hard indeed for the boys to
believe that this narrow ribbon of clear water was the same stream.

"All that its banks hold these days," Dick had explained to Roger when
the other was expressing these ideas, "comes from the melting snows
away up in those mountains whose tops we sometimes think we can see
far, far away to the west. That is why it is so clear and cold, and the
fish we catch now are not like the ones we have often brought in to our
mothers at home."

"The beautiful one, with the specks that were all the colors of the
rainbow, must have been some kind of trout," Roger continued, his face
lighting up eagerly, for he was a born angler, "and I only hope we are
able to catch many more of the same kind. I never tasted such a fine
fish, and the meat was of the true trout color, too."

"I think we can depend on taking many a fine mess of them from now on,"
Dick continued, "though we must try to find out from the Indians just
where they lurk in the river. Perhaps one of these smaller creeks,
that empty into the Missouri, may turn out to be a good place."

"To-morrow will be our chance then," Roger announced, "because I heard
Captain Clark tell some of the men we would likely hold over for a day,
so as to mend one of the boats that has been leaking badly and needs
attention."

"Let us consider it settled that way, then, Roger; and we shall see
what sort of luck the best of bait will fetch us. In some of the old
stumps and dead wood we can find big, fat grubs, which I am sure the
fish will take to savagely."

"I mean to start looking for bait this very evening when we make camp,"
declared Roger, evincing the greatest interest, for the memory of the
feast they had enjoyed when that splendid speckled fish was broiled
over the red coals had haunted him ever since.

That afternoon the air was unusually clear, and every one was able to
see, off in the distance, the lofty peaks of the mountain barrier which
must be scaled by the adventurous travelers before they could hope to
reach the <DW72>s, on the west, leading down to the blue waters of the
Pacific. Somehow the knowledge that on this summer day they had almost
arrived at another positive stage of their great undertaking inspired
their hearts with fresh hope. And in that cheering atmosphere camp was
made when the shadows began to fall.




CHAPTER XII

ON FISHING BENT


"IF you think you can get on without me, Dick, I'd like to slip away
for a little time," Roger was saying, after the boats had been run
ashore, the horses tethered among the trees, and preparations for
supper, with an attendant air of bustle, were well underway.

Of course Dick knew what was in the wind. He had not forgotten the
remark made by his comrade that, if the chances were favorable, he
meant to spend half an hour or so that evening collecting worms and
grubs to be used as bait when they tried their luck at fishing on the
next day.

"To be sure I can," he told Roger, with a smile. "All you have to do is
to trot along with your hatchet, and something to put the grubs in--if
you find any."

"Oh! I'm not afraid of being left in the lurch there," asserted Roger,
stoutly. "I can see plenty of signs of dead wood around here. A fierce
storm must have swept across this section many years ago, that leveled
plenty of big trees, which are now rotting on the ground. Grubs like
to hide in that sort of decayed stuff. Look for me by the time it gets
dusk."

"Keep your gun near you, and it would be better not to stray too
far away from the camp," warned cautious Dick, speaking on general
principles.

"You don't believe there's any danger lurking near by, do you?" asked
Roger, though failing to show much concern, for his nature was daring
and fearless.

"Nothing more than we always count on," the other told him. "But white
men who are in a strange country must always figure on finding an enemy
hiding back of some tree or rock, so keep your eyes about you, Roger.
If I should hear your gun sound, or catch a hullo, depend on me to come
in a hurry."

Roger only laughed, for he did not believe any peril could lurk so
close to the camp. Still, accustomed to being on his guard, he made
it a point to see that the powder was in the pan as he tucked his gun
under his arm and strode forth.

He found to his relief that there were plenty of old stumps and
rotting logs close to where the fires had been started, so that he need
not go any great distance away in order to begin his search.

His hatchet was soon brought into play, as he smashed some of the
likely looking remnants of once proud forest monarchs. It required
little muscular effort, scattering the soft punk-like wood, and, hardly
had the boy obtained a fair start, than with a satisfied little cry he
reached down and seized an enormous white grub whose home in the heart
of the decayed stump he had broken open.

Just as Roger had anticipated, a rich harvest awaited him. Sometimes he
came upon half a dozen prizes in one stump, and it was not long before
he knew that, before the darkness became too dense for him to see how
to work, he would have secured all the bait they could possibly use on
the following morning.

At any rate, they would always have their hatchets with them,
and, should their supply run low, there would be plenty of other
opportunities to replenish their store.

So it was that he returned to camp much sooner than Dick in his most
sanguine moments had imagined possible. There was hardly any need to
ask Roger how his quest had turned out, for the broad smile on his
tanned face told the story.

"A noble lot of fish lure," assented Dick, when he had examined the
contents of the small box into which Roger had also cast a handful of
powdered dead wood, in which his prisoners could conceal themselves. "I
must say you struck it rich this time."

"And, unless the weather goes against us when morning comes," continued
Roger, as he fastened up the box so that nothing could get at the bait
during the night, "we ought to do some tall fishing, it strikes me. I'd
just like to give the whole camp a splendid treat to those beauties of
speckled rainbow fish which we believe to be a species of trout."

All evening long the subject was frequently in his mind, for Roger was
one of those persistent persons who, once they have planned anything,
can think of little else.

"I tell you what I mean to do after we've had our breakfast," he said
at one time during the evening.

"All right," remarked Dick, who knew how useless it was to try to keep
Roger's mind off his fishing, "suppose you do then, and I'll jot it
down in my notebook, for I'm making up my day's log, you see. Go on and
tell me."

"If you look over there, Dick, you can see that friendly Indian who has
insisted on sticking to us for two days now, walking along the shore,
squatting close to our fires, and watching everything we do as though
he was head over heels in love with the ways of the palefaces."

"Yes, I've often wondered what he could be thinking about," admitted
Dick. "I've seen Captain Lewis trying to talk with him by signs, and
often calling one of the men up to help out. From that I judged the
Indian might be giving him some valuable information, which was why
they allow him to tag after us so long, and even see that he gets his
share of food at meal times."

"Well," continued Roger, "my idea is to go over to him now, and see if
he can understand that we'd like to have him tell us about a good place
for fishing in the morning; for, after all, what's the use of waiting
until breakfast time; he might be gone in the night. What do you say to
it, Dick?"

"Not a bad scheme," his chum assented. "And, do you know, I think the
brave has taken some little interest in both of us, because a number of
times it seemed to me he was watching us closely. There's your chance
now, for that matter, Roger; and, if you find it too hard to make him
understand, get Jasper Williams, our good friend, to act as interpreter
for you."

Upon that the impulsive Roger scrambled to his feet and presently he
could be seen sitting close to the friendly Indian brave, engaging him
in a strange conversation in which hands and smiles took the place of
words.

Apparently, Roger finally found the task greater than he could manage,
for he called to genial Jasper Williams, who joined them. Then the
business of explaining to the dusky son of the wilderness was taken up
anew; and with fair success, if the look on Roger's boyish face meant
anything.

When he once more rejoined his chum he was fairly bubbling over with
enthusiasm, so that Dick was not at all surprised to hear him exclaim:

"The finest of luck ever, Dick! Would you believe it? that brave tells
us there is a small stream emptying into the Missouri a couple of miles
above the camp, and that it is reckoned the best place for those big
fat trout around this section of the country."

"That is good news, indeed," remarked Dick, also pleased. "So we can
look forward to supplying the camp with a mess of fish, if all goes
well."

"Not only did he tell us that," continued the eager lad, "but he agreed
to go along with us, and show where the best holes lie; for in hot
weather, you know, all trout leave the shallows and gather in the deep,
dark pools. If we didn't know just where those places were we might
waste a lot of time trying."

At the time Dick thought they were very fortunate to be able to command
the services of the friendly Indian, and he mentioned this belief to
Roger.

"He seems to have taken a great fancy to the whites, and, no matter if
he does eat like a hungry dog, we must not complain. He will hardly
wish to go much further from his own people, and we may expect to wake
up some fine morning to find that the brave has slipped off during the
night."

"So long as he does not steal one of our horses or guns nobody will
complain, I guess," chuckled Roger. "These Indians are a light-fingered
set, take them all in all, and Jasper Williams says he never would
trust one out of his sight."

Having made all their fishing arrangements the boys soon afterwards
sought their shelter made from branches, and wrapped in their blankets
tried to find sleep.

The camp was governed with military strictness, and there were sentries
on duty all through the night, for Captain Clark had this part of the
arrangements in charge. Not once up to this time had they been taken
by surprise, though on several occasions roving bands of Blackfeet or
Dacotahs had tried to steal their horses, only to meet with failure.

Securely guarded in this manner, they passed the night in peace, and so
another dawn found them. As usual the travelers were early astir, for
there were no laggards among them. Every man had his duties to perform,
and strict discipline kept them to their various tasks.

Roger of course was about the first one up, though he knew that Dick
could not be coaxed to make a start until he had performed every one
of his duties as was his custom. If the fish were as plentiful as the
friendly Indian had declared, they would have abundance of time to take
heavy toll of their number long before noon came around.

"We decided to take one of the smaller boats if it could be spared,
you remember, Dick," Roger was saying as they ate breakfast.

"Yes," the other replied, "and I've already mentioned that to Captain
Clark, who gave me full permission to do so. This is certainly one of
the times we would enjoy having that buffalo-hide Indian boat we shot
the rapids in. I was beginning to think we ought to change our minds
about giving it away, when that accident happened, and ruined it for
hard work."

"Accident!" echoed Roger. "We knew different after we found where that
sharp knife-blade had been run along the bottom almost through the
tough hide. But that sly dog of an Andrew Waller paid dearly for his
work. I wonder what became of him; whether he joined the French trader
and his son, or went over to the Indians."

"We may never know," his chum admitted. "For my part, I hope and trust
that neither of us will ever set eyes on Waller again. I did not like
the look he gave us when he went out of camp that day; and, like all
guilty wretches caught in the act of doing wrong, he blames us for his
troubles."

In good time Dick announced that he was ready to make the start. Roger
saw to it that they had the bait. Stout poles had also been secured, to
the end of which the fishing lines were fastened. Such things as reels
those pioneer lads never knew. When a prize was hooked it was their
business to land the captive in the speediest way possible; and, as a
rule, this consisted in swinging the struggling trout over their heads
on to the land.

The Indian was hovering nearby. Dick fancied that he looked very eager,
as though he quite enjoyed the idea of accompanying the pair on their
fishing trip, and making himself useful. Perhaps, the boy thought, the
poor fellow wished to attach himself to the expedition, on account of
the charm it had for his untutored mind; for Indians could feel the
desire for adventure such as urged these bold white men to penetrate
farther day by day into the unknown country.

The boys picked out the boat best adapted to their needs, and which
could be most easily spared. Beckoning to the Indian, the boys prepared
to push out on the river. Two paddles were to be the means of urging
the light craft against the strong current of the river, and an hour's
time would be ample to see them to their destination, Roger thought,
as he commenced to wield the spruce blade vigorously.

Jasper Williams called out a last word of caution as they passed away,
up the stream, for he felt a strong interest in these boys with whose
fortunes he had been so intimately connected.

"Keep your eyes about you, lads," was what he told them, "and don't
trust everything you see, just because it looks innocent. There's a
difference between red and white, remember. Good luck to you both!"

Others also called out, begging the boys to remember that they too
liked a mess of fresh fish; and, with these friendly voices ringing in
their ears, Dick and Roger paddled swiftly up the river, soon losing
sight of the explorer's camp.




CHAPTER XIII

GLORIOUS SPORT WITH THE TROUT


WITH lusty strokes the two boys urged the boat up-stream. The Indian
sat amidship and seemed to be scanning the shore as though deeply
interested in everything he saw; though, from what he told Jasper
Williams, the locality must have been familiar to him, since he knew
all about the fishing to be had in the smaller stream.

Now and then the boys exchanged a few words, though as a rule they kept
most of their "wind," as Roger called it, for their arduous work.

"I wonder what Jasper Williams meant," remarked Roger, after they had
gone possibly a full mile.

"Of course you mean when he said there was a difference between red and
white," Dick suggested. "I was thinking of the same thing myself, and
came to the conclusion it must have been Jasper's way of telling us to
keep an eye on our dusky pilot here. In plain words, he warned us to
look out for our guns."

"Which we will certainly be sure to do!" commented Roger. "Though,
after all, we may be wronging the poor Indian by our suspicions."

"If he never knows it there can be no harm done, don't you see?" Dick
told him.

Various things about the shore attracted their attention just then, and
for the time being they forgot all about the red man, and the warning
given by their old frontiersman friend, Jasper Williams.

"The farther we go up the river," Dick was saying, "the greater the
forests seem to become. From all I've been able to learn, we will pass
through many a stretch of wood before we reach the foot of the big
mountains."

"Yes," added Roger, "and, as the river is getting more and more shallow
every day, Captain Lewis seems to believe we must soon abandon our
boats, and take to the horses for the rest of the journey."

"Look up ahead and on the left, you will see signs of a stream coming
into the Missouri. That must be where we are to stop."

At that Dick made gestures to the Indian, who, quickly comprehending
what was wanted, nodded his head in the affirmative.

"Yes, he says that is the place," Roger observed, as he started to put
still a little more vim into his strokes with the paddle, so, as Dick
was compelled to follow suit, or have the boat headed in toward the
shore, their progress increased to a wonderful degree.

In good time they reached the mouth of the tributary stream. It was
found to be as clear and cold as any one could wish on a warm day. No
wonder, Roger thought, the trout loved to frequent its waters, and lie
in the deep, dark pools that doubtless existed here and there, though
without a guide they could have been found only after much patient
searching.

Obeying the gestures of the Indian, they made for the shore and left
the boat, first making sure that it was pulled well up. Of course,
besides their poles and the little box of bait, they carried their
faithful guns along with them.

So far as they could see, the friendly Indian seemed to be almost
as deeply interested in the outcome of the fishing trip as the boys
themselves were. He immediately led them to a certain spot on the bank,
holding up a hand to impress upon them the need of caution and silence
when attempting to catch the wary fish of many colors.

Roger was already prepared, for he had fastened one of the largest and
most attractive grubs to his hook. Creeping up close to the edge of the
bank he thrust his long pole carefully forward, and allowed the baited
hook, with a small lead sinker attached to the line a foot above, to
sink into the depths.

As it slowly descended Roger's heart was beating tumultuously,
for he had been entertaining high hopes. These were not doomed to
disappointment, for, even before he found bottom, there was a sudden
vicious tug, and the end of the stout pole began to move up and down
vigorously.

Immediately Roger, who had laid his gun down at his feet so as to have
the free use of both hands, hunched his shoulders in the effort to lift
his prize. As it came struggling out of the water, he switched it high
in the air and it fell with a thud some little distance behind the
excited fisherman. At this good luck Roger could hardly contain himself.

A warning "hist" from Dick told him to repress the shout of triumph
that was bubbling to his lips, and he realized the necessity for
silence if they expected to continue the sport, as the trout are
easily alarmed.

The capture proved to be a magnificent specimen of the lovely variety
of trout that differed from anything either of the boys had ever seen
before. In later years this vigorous species of fighter was classified,
and given the deserved name of "rainbow trout," and for a very good
reason, as any one who has ever seen one fresh drawn from the water
will admit.

Meanwhile Dick started in to try his luck, and it certainly began to
look as though the Indian had told only the truth when he said the fish
lay in countless numbers in those deep shadowy pools, for, just as had
happened in Roger's case, there was a fierce pull on his pole, and Dick
found himself struggling with a captive that it required all his powers
to land successfully.

So the sport progressed, the friendly Indian hovering near them and
often, when the bites came less frequently, leading the way to some new
spot on the bank, where another pool would be found.

Always did they find these places inhabited by a hungry family of
trout, eager to snap at the attractive lure which was dangled in front
of them.

The Indian gathered up the spoils as they went along. He knew just how
to fashion a tether out of tough but yielding willow, and, when half a
dozen of the trout had been strung in this manner, he saw to it that
they were placed in the water to keep fresh, while the sport continued
as before.

Roger was enjoying himself as he had hardly ever done before. Such
royal fishing, and such game fighters made a combination that ought
to have been sufficient to fill any boy's heart with supreme joy,
especially one so devoted to the sport as Roger had always been.

Dick did not lose his head over the wonderful success that was coming
their way. Because Roger gave himself up so wholly to the excitement
was a very good reason why Dick himself should do the watching for both
of them.

And yet it seemed almost absurd to suspect that anything evil could be
threatening them on that bright summer morning. The very insects seemed
to hum more noisily than usual, as though with the pleasure of living
on such a perfect day.

Dick often cast a side glance toward the Indian, but so far he had seen
absolutely nothing suspicious in his manner. He seemed to be as happy
as Roger, and kept close to the heels of the boy as he worked his long
rod, and added constantly to the number of fish he was taking.

It seemed as though each one of the grubs was good for a fat trout, and
so savagely did the fish snap at them that they were securely hooked in
nearly every instance, so that the losses were next to nothing.

If things continued to go on as they were doing, they would soon be
in possession of all the fish the camp could use. Roger even told his
chum in a whisper that, unless they looked out, they would be unable to
carry the whole of their taking back in one trip of the boat, though
possibly that was only meant in the light of a boast.

Dick's arms were beginning to ache on account of the strain on the
muscles caused by raising so many heavy prizes over his head. He would
have suggested that they had quite a large mess now, and perhaps had
better go back to camp, allowing some of the others the pleasure of
coming up later and trying their luck; but he knew Roger well enough
to feel sure that the other would decline to quit fishing as long as a
single grub remained.

At any rate, when the supply was really exhausted, Dick meant to
decline to linger any longer, or to look for a new lot of bait.

For the moment the fish seemed to have stopped biting.

"We have only about six more grubs left, Dick," said Roger, after
examining the contents of the bait box, "and that ought to mean as many
fish, if the Indian guide knows of still another good hole. I'm going
to try to ask him. And, Dick, I promise you on my word of honor that
I'll agree to quit when we use up the last bait. I can see that you're
getting tired. You never were as crazy over the sport as I have always
been."

"It's a bargain then, Roger," assented the other, pleased to know that
his comrade meant to be reasonable about it, for he had half-expected
trouble in trying to tear the other away from such a fascinating game.

Roger accordingly began to make motions to the Indian, and the other
must have understood what he wanted, for he nodded his head, and
beckoned to them to follow where he led.

Dick would rather have remained where he stood, but he did not wish
to have Roger go off alone with the Indian brave, so he went along.
He thought the copper- visitor at the camp showed even more
eagerness than at any previous time in the immediate past, as though
he had been keeping the finest place of all to the last, in order to
further astonish them.

Indeed, when Dick saw Roger drag out a trout that exceeded all the rest
in size and fierceness he decided that he had guessed the true reason
for that look he had detected on the usually emotionless face of the
brave.

Again did Roger drop his baited hook in, and with a similar result. He
was fairly trembling with the excitement, and, too, a little weariness;
but according to his count there still remained four more grubs, and
the work must proceed. As Dick seemed bent on letting him finish the
tale, Roger, nothing averse, set to work to get his hook in readiness
once more.

The spot was a picturesque one. Several large trees grew close to the
edge of the stream, casting their shadows upon the water just where the
deep pool lay. In the dusky depth the trout were lying, and hungry at
that. Dick could not remember of ever having seen such a combination
of scenery and splendid fishing grounds, and he believed the memory of
that day would always be marked with a white stone in their lives.

It certainly was destined to be remembered, but not on these accounts
alone. There were other reasons why the pioneer boys would look back to
that sunny day and conjure up ghosts of the past.

Roger was making good his boast that he meant to take six fish with
those half dozen grubs, for already a third one had been pulled in.

The Indian, apparently just as deeply interested in the sport as Roger
himself, was hanging at the boy's elbow, and every now and then making
gestures as though showing him where to drop his hook the next time.
It seemed as though his wonderful eyes were able to pierce those dark
depths and discover where the largest fish was lazily working his fins,
as he faced the current, waiting for something suited to his taste to
come within striking distance.

There was nothing at all suspicious about this, and Dick was beginning
to believe the vague fears that had oppressed him must have been the
result of too much imagination, when without the slightest warning
something happened.

He saw a dark object drop from the branches of the tree directly upon
the back and shoulders of poor Roger, who was instantly carried to the
ground. Dick's first inclination was to give a shout, and raise his
gun, for he had seen their dusky guide pounce upon the weapon which
Roger had laid on the grass at his feet.

Before Dick could make a move, however, he too felt a heavy weight
strike him on the shoulders so that he was knocked to his back; and, as
he lay there gasping for breath, he looked up into the painted faces of
several Indian warriors who came dropping from the trees as though they
were over-ripe plums in a gale of wind.

After all, the supposed friendly Indian had played them false, and had
actually led the two boys into a cleverly arranged ambuscade.




CHAPTER XIV

PRISONERS OF THE DACOTAHS


DICK knew the folly of resistance when he saw that, besides the two
warriors who held him down, there were half a dozen others nearby.
Roger, always impulsive and headstrong, was struggling desperately,
though without the slightest chance of breaking away from his captors.
Understanding what was taking place close by, Dick called out:

"Give up, Roger; it is foolish to fight against such odds. You will
only be hurt for your pains, and nothing gained. Leave it all to me!"

Not only did Roger hear these words, but his own good sense told him
the wisdom of yielding to overwhelming numbers. But it was always a
difficult thing for Roger to believe in the old saying to the effect
that "he who fights and runs away may live to fight another day."

After being disarmed the two boys were allowed to get upon their feet.
They discovered that their dusky captors undoubtedly belonged to
the same tribe as their treacherous guide, and, therefore, must be
Dacotahs. That guide was clutching Roger's gun as though he expected to
retain it as the price of his labors in thus entering the camp of the
strange "palefaces," and luring the two boys into the trap so cunningly
contrived.

Dick was far from downcast. It took considerable to make him feel as
though everything were dark around him. And, in order to cheer Roger
up, as well as to arouse his interest in planning an escape, the first
remark Dick made was in the line of an attempt to guess how it had all
been planned.

"Look, they are marking a smoke now," he told his companion, as several
of their captors struck flint and steel together, and with the spark
thus generated started a fire in a little pile of greenish-looking wood.

"That must be meant for a signal to some one who is away from here,"
Roger commented, on observing what was going on. "Dick, what does all
this mean? You are always good at hitting on the truth while I grope in
the dark. Why do you think these Indians want to make us prisoners?"

"It was a trap, you understand, Roger?"

"Oh! yes, that's as plain as can be," replied the other, readily
enough; "for they were all hiding up in these trees while we kept on
fishing so merrily, without dreaming that we were being watched every
minute of the time."

"And, Roger, the guide led us into the mess; now we can understand why
he was so eager to fetch us up here."

"Then you believe, do you, Dick, he planned this thing; that perhaps he
even entered our camp with such a game in his mind?"

"It begins to look that way, I am sorry to say," Dick replied.

"But can he be in the pay of that revengeful Frenchman, Francois
Lascelles?" demanded Roger, rather appalled by the thought.

"We will soon know, because, unless I am mistaken, that smoke they are
sending up yonder is meant to call him here. And it would not surprise
me very much, Roger, if that brave who has been eating at our campfire
for two days, crept out last night and told how he had been engaged to
take us to this stream to-day. That would account for the Indians being
concealed here."

The boys were without weapons, and could do nothing toward the making
of their escape; so they waited with what patience they could command
to see what was about to happen.

Shortly afterwards some one was seen approaching, at sight of whom
Roger gave utterance to an exclamation of disgust.

"Why, after all, it's that skunk, Andrew Waller!" he exclaimed.

"Yes, he must have found some way to get in with these Indians, and
they have been working for his interests," Dick suggested. "Perhaps
he has lied to them, and made them believe we are two very important
persons. He may take the trouble to explain the thing to us, thinking
it will add to his glory."

"I can see the look of satisfaction on his face from here," said Roger,
in a surly tone, as though it cut him to the quick to have the traitor
triumph over them in that way.

Waller soon arrived on the scene, and his first act was to look
insolently into the faces of the two boys.

"So, you fell to the bait, did you, boys? When I told you we would meet
again you didn't believe it would be so soon. And let me say that you
are going to be in a pretty pickle after this. These Indians will make
sure that you do not slip through their hands."

"What have you been telling them about us?" demanded Roger,
impetuously. "Some big lie I am sure, for it would be just like you."

The man frowned as though angry, and Dick feared he was about to strike
the bold boy a blow in the face, which would have precipitated a fight
in which Roger would have gone down to defeat. However, Waller managed
to keep his temper in control, and sneering again, went on to say:

"Oh! to make sure that you would be held a close prisoner, I merely
told them that you boys were the sons of the Big White Father away
off in the Land of the Rising Sun; and that if they held you safe
they could demand a great ransom in wampum, sticks-that-shoot-fire,
and everything that the heart of an Indian could wish. In other words
I have cooked your goose for you. You may be sure you will never be
allowed to go free."

He turned his back on them and commenced talking with one of the
Dacotahs, who, from the feathers in his black hair, seemed to be some
sort of sub-chief. Much of the conversation was carried on by gestures,
in which Waller seemed to be unusually expert.

Dick watched closely in the hope that he might be able to catch the
drift of what was passing between the two. That he and Roger were the
objects under consideration he had not the slightest doubt, for several
times one or the other pointed toward the spot where they stood.

"Can you make it out at all, Dick?" Roger asked.

"I am sorry to say it's more than I've been able to understand, Roger;
but I think he's telling the chief again how valuable we are as prizes.
And to think we have no way of proving to him that we are only ordinary
boys, without rich fathers to pay a big ransom. It is just the sort of
game we might have expected Andrew Waller to play."

The man who had been sent out of the camp of the explorers now
approached them again. He was rubbing his hands as though in great glee.

"Now, I shall not only have my pick of two good guns, but plenty
of ammunition for them, in spite of Captain Lewis. I am going to
say good-by to you here, for I have to meet M'sieu Lascelles at an
appointed rendezvous. Oh! he will be very much pleased when he learns
how the Dacotahs prize the boys he hates so bitterly, and mean to carry
them off to their villages, far to the north, there to keep them until
the big ransom arrives. It tickles me to know how soon my debt to you
has been so nicely cancelled."

Roger gritted his teeth, but he managed to keep from saying anything.

"Just as you told us when you were leaving camp, we may meet again,
Andrew Waller," Dick said, with an unmistakable meaning in his voice.

"Oh! that is possible," the other jauntily added, purposely
misunderstanding what the boy meant; "for it may be M'sieu Lascelles,
he would wish to see for himself that you are comfortable, so for that
reason we might journey into the Dacotah country ourselves."

With that thrust he waved his hand to them, and, turning, walked
away as he had come. None of the Indians paid the least heed to his
movements; but Roger almost choked in his indignation.

"Just to think, Dick," he muttered in a quivering voice, "the beast
is carrying my dear old gun which he took from our red guide, on his
shoulder. How much I will miss it, because, ever since I've been able
to look along the sights of a rifle, that gun has been my companion day
and night."

"We shall hope that in some way or other you will see it again," Dick
told him. "Even if not, there are others just as sure shooters at the
camp. The one he used to own, and which they refused to let him carry
off, is even a better-made weapon than yours."

"Yes, but that gun has associations away above its value in money,"
said Roger, heaving a sigh; "and at the best the chances of my ever
handling it again are three against one."

"Well, we must try to think of other things now," Dick told him.

"You mean about escaping from our captors, don't you, Dick? What if we
can convince them that Waller is a man with a double tongue, and that
what he told them about our being the sons of the Great White Father at
Washington is only a package of lies?"

"Of course we can try, but I'm afraid it will be useless, because the
Indians want to believe that wonderful story. See how all of them are
examining my gun now. I suppose every one of them is picturing himself
as owning just such a marvelous weapon that 'spits out fire,' and kills
the game just as thunder and lightning do in the storm."

"What do you think they expect to do with us now?" asked Roger.

"They will not want to stay here much longer," affirmed Dick, "because
they are afraid of the 'palefaces with their thunder sticks.'
Consequently, they will start off toward their village, which we
understand lies several days' journey away from here toward the
northwest."

"But, when we fail to come back to-day, Captain Lewis is bound to
send some of his best trackers up here to learn what happened to us.
And, Dick, surely they will try to follow our captors, and effect our
rescue."

"Listen, Roger. We must not leave it all to them. These cunning red men
know how to cover a trail so that the keenest eye cannot find a trace.
Depend on it, they will leave no stone unturned to hide the tracks we
make. And then, besides, do we not know that the summer is already
beginning to wane?"

"Yes, yes, all that is only too true, Dick. Captain Lewis understands
there is no time to spare, with those terrible mountains yet to be
scaled, and also black deserts to cross, and all before snow flies. I
am much afraid he will decide that the success of the whole undertaking
would be put in peril should he detach any of his men to engage in a
wild goose hunt for us."

"We two have before this been in positions of peril," said Dick,
firmly, with a flash in his eyes that aroused new hope in the breast
of his chum; "and always, in times that are past, have we succeeded in
saving ourselves. So let us keep up our spirits and watch constantly
for a chance to give these Indians the slip."

"If we should find the opportunity," said Roger, immediately, "I hope
we manage to get hold of your gun, and our hatchets and knives. To lose
my good shooting-iron is bad enough, but that knife, you know, has
served me since I was knee-high to a grasshopper. Promise me you will
do your level best to save our side-arms if we find a way to escape,
Dick!"

To this entreaty Dick assented. Indeed, he knew well enough that it was
their only policy to go away armed rather than in a helpless condition.

Shortly afterwards they were given to understand, through grunts and
gestures, that the march was about to be taken up. With several Indians
stalking along in single file ahead, and others bringing up the rear
the two boys had to turn their backs upon the "Big Muddy" and start
upon the long journey into the Northwest, at the end of which lay the
Dacotah village.




CHAPTER XV

WHEN STOUT HEARTS WERE NECESSARY


"WE have covered a good many miles since starting, Dick, and I hope
they soon show signs of stopping for the night."

The afternoon was getting well along when Roger made this remark to his
cousin. His tone had a vein of complaint in it, for, although Roger
could tramp through the woods all day and feel it but little, he did
not like being forced to do the walking against his will.

Another thing that fretted the boy was the fact that every furlong
passed over carried them further away from their friends of the
expedition, the only whites, saving the French traders, within hundreds
of miles.

Dick had begun to notice this growing feeling of irritation on the
part of his comrade. He himself could look trouble in the face without
flinching, and he now concluded it was time to cheer up Roger's
drooping spirits.

"No question but that they intend to pull up pretty soon, Roger," he
said, as he trudged along close to the other's elbow. "In fact, I've
noticed some of them looking about as if they expected to reach a good
camp-ground at any minute. They were tired at the time they lay in wait
for us, and must have come a long way."

"Of course you noticed, Dick, that two of the braves stayed behind
when we left the river, though they did catch up with us several hours
afterwards?"

"Yes, and it is not difficult to guess what their part in the retreat
was," replied Dick. "They remained to conceal every trace of moccasined
feet, so that it would have to be a mighty good tracker who could tell
what had happened there on the bank of the small stream."

"Yes, and of course they've blinded our trail in the bargain every now
and then on the way," continued Roger, ruefully. "Three separate times
did we walk for half a mile in shallow water, and leave the creek on
the stones, so there would be no sign left after the sun and wind dried
the wet marks. It was the old Indian trick that we know so well."

"I tried my best to leave a plain track," added Dick, "but the braves
coming behind must have seen me do it, and made sure to cover it."

"What do you believe Captain Lewis will do about it?" asked Roger, he
himself having pondered on this subject without coming to a conclusion.

"When we fail to return to the camp of course they will send some of
the men up to look the ground over," Dick answered, thoughtfully. "The
disappearance of the friendly Indian will give them a clew. Then they
are apt to find some of the trout that were left behind fastened to the
willow withes."

"I hope they enjoy them," muttered Roger, with a grimace, for he could
not help remembering how his mouth had fairly watered with anticipation
of the treat he had expected to have that evening.

"I've been wondering, myself, how it came that the Indians overlooked
taking the fish," continued Dick, "and the only thing I can see is that
they were so anxious to get on the move before any of the white men
came along with those terrible 'fire-shooting-sticks,' that they forgot
about it."

"Yes," Roger added, "and that treacherous chap who guided us into the
trap was so taken up looking over your gun, which Waller had turned
over to him, that he forgot all about the fish, too. Well, I hope they
are found, and will make a fine supper for the men."

"It has clouded up, and looks a little as if we might have a storm of
some kind before morning breaks," went on Dick.

"More trouble if that happens," grumbled the other, glancing up at the
heavens to verify his comrade's statement.

"Don't be too sure of that," Dick told him. "It may turn out to be a
great help to us, for all we know, and give us a chance to make our
escape."

"What, do you think that, after all, some of the trailers among our
friends will be able to follow us, and take these Indians by surprise?"
asked Roger.

Dick, however, shook his head at this.

"To tell you the truth, Roger," he observed, "I'm afraid we can count
on no such help from our friends, even if they could discover our
trail, which is much in doubt."

"But why not?" demanded the other. "Captain Lewis thinks a lot of us,
and he is hardly the man to desert a friend, Dick."

"Every word of that is true," his chum assured him. "There never could
be a finer man than Captain Lewis; but stop and think, Roger; he
is not on business of his own now, but bent on carrying out a great
exploring expedition that was sanctioned by Congress, and backed by
President Jefferson himself. Every day counts in the spelling of
success; a delay here might ruin all their plans."

Roger nodded his head, as though he grasped the idea.

"Yes, I can see what you mean, Dick," he admitted, slowly and
regretfully, "and I guess you are right. Much as Captain Lewis himself
might want to lay over and send a party of his men out in search of us,
his duty binds him the other way. He will have to go on, and leave us
to our fate."

"Well, we have been able to take care of ourselves lots of times before
now, Roger, and why not again?"

Somehow his last words seemed to arouse the dormant spirit of
confidence in the other. Roger gritted his teeth, while his eyes
flashed defiantly.

"You're right, Dick, we have done plenty of things before, and can
again," he declared with a ring in his voice that Dick liked to hear.
"Our fathers never showed the white feather when they faced troubles
just as bad, and why should we? How many times have we listened to
them tell how they followed that band of Iroquois Indians ever so far
into the North, and rescued their sister Kate, who had been carried
away.[3] I'm done with repining, Dick; from now on you'll find me
different."

"Then to-night, when we are in camp, we must try to outwit these red
rascals. Even now I have something of a plan in my mind. And you may
be sure that every mile we covered I kept tally of the direction, so I
know just how to go in order to reach the Missouri again."

"You shame me, Dick," frankly admitted the other boy; "to know that,
while I've been fretting and complaining, thinking only of our
troubles, you were keeping track of such things as would help us get
back to our friends."

A little later on, Dick, who seemed to keep his eyes constantly on the
alert, once more spoke to his comrade.

"There's something brewing, as sure as you live, Roger," he said; "for
the Indians are consulting together in hushed tones, and examining the
ground as if they had run across some tracks there that excited them."

"Can it be game, and they are being tempted to start on a hunt?" asked
Roger.

"Two-footed game, then," replied the other boy, "for I can see there
are moccasin tracks all around. Of course, as the different tribes make
moccasins after their tribal way, it's easy for these Dacotahs to know
the others are not of their kind."

"They certainly do act as if they suspected there might be a breath
of danger hanging around, Dick. Do you know whether the Sioux and the
Dacotahs are enemies or not?"

"They have been in the past," acknowledged Dick; "but I know the print
of a Sioux moccasin, and these are different, Roger."

"Perhaps Shoshones. You remember Captain Lewis told us we were likely
to run upon some of that warlike tribe at any time now. Yes, and he
remarked that, as a rule, they were enemies to the Blackfeet, Crows,
Flat Heads, Dacotahs, and nearly every other tribe up in the Northwest."

"I shouldn't be surprised if you have hit on the truth, Roger, and
that this war party turns out to be fierce Shoshones. Our good friend,
Captain Lewis, said he hoped to make friends of them, since we must
pass through their country before striking the great mountains."

"There, we are going on again, Dick, but notice how the braves keep
looking to the right and to the left, as if they feared an ambush. The
Shoshones must be a fierce lot of fighters, or else be in overpowering
numbers."

"I think, if I can read an Indian's mind," said Dick presently, "these
braves will make an early camp. If they start a fire at all it will be
only a small one without smoke, and hidden in a hole, so that its light
will not betray them."

"Then there's a poor chance for supper, I take it," grumbled Roger,
who, having a splendid appetite, did not fancy going hungry, or chewing
on a tough piece of pemmican, or jerked venison.

"You often complain of things being dull, Roger; but I am sure you must
admit there's no lack of excitement for us now. We are prisoners in the
hands of the hostile Indians; there is a storm threatening; and now
comes a chance that, before morning, the camp may be attacked by these
Shoshones who are out looking for plunder and scalps."

"If they should come, Dick, what do you suppose would happen to us?"

Roger felt rather anxious, for he had heard it said that among Indians
it was the custom to kill their prisoners rather than have them
rescued, or taken away by a rival tribe.

"If I can carry out my plans," Dick assured him, "I don't mean to wait
until the camp is attacked. I'd like to be miles on the way back to the
river before that comes to pass, if it really does."

"There, I think we are going to pull up at last," ventured Roger, as
he saw the leading Indians halt, and begin to look around as though to
make sure that no enemy lurked in the neighboring woods.

It was a well-chosen spot for a concealed camp. A shallow depression,
very like a large bowl, offered them a chance to build a small fire
without any risk of the blaze being seen; and, so far as smoke was
concerned, those dusky sons of the forest could be counted on to select
such wood that there would not be sent up the slightest column of vapor
to betray them.

Roger, still watching, soon uttered a low cry of satisfaction.

"See, Dick, they do mean to have a little cooking-fire!" he exclaimed;
"and that means we may get some supper after all. So far they have
shown us no particular ill will, and treated us half-way decently."

"That comes of being taken for the sons of the Great White Father
at Washington," remarked Dick, with a chuckle that told that his
spirits had not been crushed even though the future looked so dark
and forbidding. "It is a high honor that has come to us, Roger, to be
reckoned President Jefferson's own boys!"

Roger, however, was more interested in what was going on about the
little fire than anything else. He observed just how the expert braves
formed a small pyramid, and then used the flint and steel to start a
tiny blaze.

"Yes, one of them is unwrapping that bundle he carries, Dick," the boy
went on to say, "and, just as I expected, it contains some freshly
killed venison. Oh! it's going to be all right, and we are due for some
supper, I reckon."

But Dick was thinking of other things than eating just then. He
surveyed with a critical eye the lowering sky, and wondered if a storm
was about to break upon them before morning came.

FOOTNOTE:

[3] See "The Pioneer Boys on the Great Lakes."




CHAPTER XVI

THE ESCAPE


THE two prisoners had been made to sit down, and were under constant
surveillance. It would not have been possible for them to make any move
looking to escape without being immediately detected. Dick realized the
foolishness of such an attempt, and made no effort for the time being.

Those eyes of his noted everything that was going on around him, for he
knew the time was approaching when utter darkness would come, and, if
they expected to make a move, memory must take the place of sight.

Just as Roger had been hoping, the Indians cooked some of the venison,
though in a primitive fashion. Numerous pieces, as they were sliced
from the haunch, were impaled on the ends of long slivers of wood, and
the latter thrust into the earth in such fashion that the meat received
the full heat of the little fire.

Of course, when cooked it was also partly burned, but this made no
difference to any one who was really hungry. The two boys were glad to
receive their share of the venison, and devoured it eagerly.

"Of course they'll tie us up, as Indians always do their prisoners,
Dick?" suggested Roger, while they were still munching at the food
provided by their captors.

"There's no doubt about that," the other told him. "Already I have
noticed one of the warriors looking over some long deerskin thongs, and
then glancing in our direction. I think they are only waiting until we
get through eating."

"Then for one I mean to keep at it as long as I can," affirmed Roger;
"because I never did like the idea of being tied to a tree. I suppose
that is what they mean to do with us, Dick."

"We'll soon know, Roger, and, now that I have the chance, I want to
tell you about the little scheme I have in my mind."

"I wish you would!" hastily exclaimed the other; "and I hope it will
turn out to be a success."

"You may remember," began Dick, "that I have hands that somehow I can
double up into a very small compass. Many a time you've tried to
fasten my wrists together to see if I could get my hands free, and in
nearly every case I did the trick by stretching the thongs a little,
and then slipping a hand out."

"Oh! now I begin to see what you hope to do, Dick; and, let me tell
you, the skies look brighter already. I'm sure you can set your hands
free, if only it doesn't stop at that."

"One step at a time, Roger; we mustn't expect to run before we can
walk. Once my hands are loose, it will be a queer thing if in some way
I fail to set both of us free. But here comes several of the Indians
this way, as though they mean to trice us up. Better hurry and eat that
last bit of meat, if you wouldn't lose it."

"I suppose I'd better," grumbled Roger, "but I don't see why they want
to be in such a dreadful hurry about tying us up. Ugh! a whole night of
standing against a tree is something I don't like at all."

It turned out just as Dick had said, for the Indians indicated by signs
that they wished the two boys to stand up and back against a couple of
trees that happened to grow close together.

From the way in which the deerskin thongs were used to tie the captives
to the trees it was evident that the braves had had long practice at
this art. When they had used up all the hide rope, Dick and Roger were
indeed in a helpless position, being bound hand and foot.

"This is about as hard as anything we ever went through, Dick,"
remarked Roger, after the Indians had finished their task and left them
there.

"Yes, that is very true, Roger, but I want to tell you that I can move
one of my hands, and I'm starting to stretch this buckskin thong. After
a short time I believe I can get my hands free."

"That's good news; and what next, Dick?"

"If only that brave doesn't happen to remember that he stuck his knife
into my tree right here, and return to possess himself of it, why,
don't you see how fortunate that is going to turn out for us?"

"A knife so close to your hands once you get them free--that would be
simply glorious, Dick. And I'm going to keep hoping that warrior has no
need for his blade during the whole night."

"I believe I can reach it," continued Dick, twisting his head around to
take another look at the coveted weapon; "and if I do, one slash will
cut this buckskin rope. After that, you can depend on me to jump over
to your side. But keep on working your hands all you can, Roger, for
the looser your bonds are the better in the end."

The night was by now closing in around them.

Some time before the fire had been carefully extinguished, water being
thrown on the burning embers to hasten its end. Dick, still watching
the actions of the Indians, soon saw they were taking extra precautions
against a surprise. From all of the signs the boys concluded that these
Dacotahs had good reason to fear the coming of the hostile war party.

"I've got an idea," he told Roger in following out this train of
thought, "that not so very long back the Dacotahs must have made a raid
on the lodges of the Shoshone tribe, and done more or less damage.
Somehow they act to me as if guilty."

"And, Dick, if ever the two parties do clash, there will be a lively
time of it, we can be sure," Roger in turn remarked. "These braves seem
to be a picked lot, as far as I can tell, and ought to put up a good
fight, even if outnumbered."

"While I've never watched a real battle between two war parties of
Indians," observed Dick, "I must say I'm not dying with curiosity to
see one. I only hope we have a chance to get away from here before it
happens. And, Roger, another thing--I'm keeping an eye on that fellow
who is carrying my gun. He has placed it, together with the powder-horn
and bullet-pouch, on that log yonder, you notice."

"Now it is queer that I hadn't noticed such a thing, Dick!"

"Simply because you waste so much time bothering about our hard luck,
when you might just as well be using eyes and ears to learn something
worth while," the other boy told him. "Now, if only I can manage to
snatch up my gun and other fixings when we leave here, it will make me
happy, I can tell you."

The minutes dragged along slowly to the two boys. When an hour, and
then two, had passed, Roger was beginning to complain again, for it was
weary work being forced to stand in this way upon their feet.

By this time the Indians had ceased their low droning talk. Only one of
them was still sitting there cross-legged, smoking his red clay pipe.
Dick did not doubt that somewhere in the gloom one or two sentries,
or videttes, had been posted, in order to guard against a surprise in
every way possible, though of course he could not see the first sign of
their presence.

Only the customary sounds of a summer night in the wilderness came to
the ears of the captive pioneer boys. Most of these were very familiar
to them, on account of their habit for years of spending nights out of
doors.

Still, somehow, things did not seem quite the same as usual. It was
different listening to the hoot of the owl, the croak of the night
heron, the complaint of the tree-frog calling for more rain, or even
the barking of a red fox somewhere in the forest, when tied up in this
way, and facing such a gloomy outlook.

"Dick," whispered Roger, "isn't it nearly time?"

"Not yet," replied the other in the same cautious manner, "hold your
horses, and have patience, Roger. Another hour or two must go by before
I dare start in."

Poor impatient Roger groaned, and relapsed into silence again. Oh! how
time did drag along. It seemed to the boy he would go fairly wild,
waiting for something to break that terrible monotony.

There were no stars overhead by means of which they could tell how the
night was wearing on. Dick had to resort to other means by which to
mark the passage of time; still he knew fairly well when the hour of
midnight approached.

Meanwhile Roger had finally fallen asleep, uncomfortable as his
position was. Dick could just manage to see, by straining his eyes,
that his chum's head had fallen forward upon his chest, as though tired
Nature had overcome him.

Dick concluded that there was no use waiting any longer to put his plan
into operation. Everything about the camp seemed silent, and, although
he took a desperate chance, the boy believed he would gain nothing by
further delay.

His initial act was to draw first one hand and then the other from the
stretched buckskin thongs. Then turning as best he could he reached out
toward the knife the Indian who had helped tie them to the tree had
left sticking there, even with the boy's head.

What a thrill passed through Dick's whole frame as his eager hand
touched that welcome blade. Its buckhorn handle, too, felt very
familiar, and he was almost sure it would turn out to be the
hunting-knife Roger valued so highly because of the associations
connected with it.

As it possessed a keen edge, he found no difficulty in bending down
and severing his bonds. After that he stopped and listened, but there
was nothing to indicate that his actions had been discovered. The owl
had commenced his mournful hooting again; and the tree-frog piped up
louder than ever, Dick noticed with considerable satisfaction, for he
hoped the sounds would muffle any slight noise he would chance to make.

Now he turned to set Roger free. He hoped in his heart that, upon being
aroused, Roger would not utter an exclamation. With this possibility in
mind Dick very cautiously crept over to the other tree.

He could hear Roger's heavy breathing, showing that the boy still
slept. With great care Dick raised himself until he could put his lips
close to the other's ear, when he whispered:

"Roger, wake up, but keep very still! I am going to cut your bonds now!"

The boy gave a great start, but fortunately he did not attempt to
answer. He comprehended instantly what the situation was, and knew the
necessity for silence.

Already Dick's hands were seeking for the deerskin thongs that bound
the wrists of his comrade to the tree. As soon as he had made certain,
the pressure of the sharp blade instantly severed the restraining
cords and set Roger's hands free.

All that remained now was to do the same service with regard to the
hide rope that went around Roger's waist, and then around his ankles
further down. After that they could listen for a minute, to make sure
they had not been heard, and then depart from the hostile camp on hands
and knees, creeping stealthily along like a couple of snakes.

So far Dick's cleverly arranged plan had worked admirably. If the
rest proved to be as easy of accomplishment they could congratulate
themselves on having done a big thing, with credit to their education
in the line of border cunning.

Dick had just finished severing the last of the bonds, and Roger was
in the act of stepping forward, when something suddenly occurred that
thrilled both boys to the heart, as well as put a different aspect on
their method of hasty departure.

From some place back in the woods a little way a loud and singular
whoop rang forth. Dick believed that it must be intended as a signal
announcing an attack; for, hardly had it ceased to ring through the
aisles of the forest, than a deafening chorus of wild yells rang
forth, together with the rush of many bodies crashing through the
underwood and advancing from every direction toward the camp of the
Dacotahs.




CHAPTER XVII

SHELTER IN A HOLLOW TREE


"IT is the Shoshone war-cry!" exclaimed Roger, instinctively, as he
heard the piercing, bubbling sound that must have been uttered with a
hand to the mouth.

Dick seized hold of his chum. He realized that any delay now might
prove very costly for them both.

"We must get away from here!" he cried, thinking of what Roger had said
concerning the savage ways of the Indians, and how they often preferred
killing their prisoners to letting them be set free, or taken by a
hostile tribe.

"Your gun, Dick?" asked Roger, breathlessly.

"I mean to make a grab for it," replied the other, who was already
moving off.

Then it was that his careful survey of the surroundings came into play,
for Dick had made a mental map upon which he could depend when utter
darkness lay upon the earth.

Roger, still hearkening to the dreadful sounds that were bursting out
all about them, felt his companion duck down, and he judged that they
must be alongside the log on which the gun with the ammunition had been
placed by the Indian who had led them into the trap.

And, somehow, Roger guessed that success had come to his chum, even
though he himself could not see anything of the gun. Again he was being
half dragged along, as though Dick had chosen his course, and was
trying to follow it.

Their one idea now was to get away from the camp, and let the hostile
red men have their fight out to the bitter end. Small affair it was
of the boys whether the Dacotahs whipped the Shoshones, or the latter
overwhelmed the braves who had been the captors of the young pioneers.

Skillful maneuvering was necessary in order to avoid contact with
any of the furious warriors. The boys heard the sound of blows being
struck, and their lively imaginations could picture what was occurring
nearby, as they slipped along through the darkness.

Fortune was kind to them, after all, for they did not strike against a
single dusky figure, although several times they had to sink close to
the ground when they heard the rush of moccasined feet close at hand.

Now the noise of the desperate hand-to-hand conflict was behind them,
Roger noticed with a feeling of great relief. He could hear not only
the war cries of those who fought, but occasionally there also came
sounds of darker import, such as were probably the death chants of
those who were bound for the "happy hunting grounds" of the red men. As
they gradually put all this horrible clamor further and further behind
them, the two boys felt their own spirits rise higher. The attack of
the Shoshones had come just in the nick of time to help the young
pioneers. It had served to cover their escape as nothing else could
have done.

Roger was panting for breath, because of the excitement as well as his
strenuous actions. He had knocked into more than one tree, but without
so far seriously hurting himself; and as usual the boy felt that he
must give tongue to the feelings of wild delight that were rioting
through his veins.

"We did it, Dick, for a fact; gave them the slip!" he burst forth.

"It looks that way, Roger."

"And now all we have to do is to get our bearings, and make a fresh
start for the river; isn't it?" continued Roger, anxiously.

"That's all, Roger," he was assured. "And already I feel that we are on
the right course, so we'll keep along as we're going now."

"But the fight seems to be over with," added Roger. "At any rate all
the yells have stopped. I wonder whether the Dacotahs whipped, or were
overpowered by their foes? Though for that matter we care mighty little
how it turned out."

"Since neither of them were our friends," Dick admitted, "we had no
interest in the outcome of the forest battle. It was a case of dog
eat dog with us; and I only hope we'll run across no more of the red
rascals until we rejoin our party."

"How far do you mean to go before stopping, Dick?"

Roger was getting a little tired when he asked this question. They had
both had a hard day of it, beside the standing for several hours in a
cramped position tied to the trees.

"I think we ought to keep on for at least an hour more," Dick told
him, "even if it does pull hard. By then we'll have reached a point
where the Indians who turn out to be victors can hardly find us in the
morning, even if they happen to bother making the search. So keep up
your spirits, Roger, for we've got a heap to be thankful for."

"I'm sure of that, Dick, and I hope you didn't think I was complaining
just now. You'll find me good for an hour's tramp in the dark, or
two of them, for that matter. Then for a few hours' sleep before day
breaks."

"It may be the storm will swoop down on us before then, and force us
to change our plans. So, after a while, we must keep a lookout for
some sort of shelter, such as a hollow tree. It wouldn't be the first
time we have lain in such a snug nook when the rain was coming down in
bucketfuls."

"I should say it wasn't!" declared Roger, and from that time on he
seemed to have picked up a new supply of energy, for he uttered no
further complaint as he struggled on at the side of his companion.

No matter how slowly the minutes passed, Roger realized that the
conditions were vastly different from what they seemed earlier in the
night; when tied to that tree the gloom around him was no thicker than
the state of his feelings.

Dick finally came to a halt. Perhaps the hour had not fully passed,
but he believed they had put enough ground behind them to feel safe.
Besides, he had made a discovery that he fancied ought to be utilized.

Either the night had grown lighter, as though the moon might have
arisen, and was shining back of the heavy clouds, or else the eyes of
the boys, in growing accustomed to the darkness, allowed them to see
things better.

"I've noticed several trees of good size as we came along, Roger," he
told his chum; "and if only we can find one that is hollow, we need go
no further until morning."

At that the other laughed as though pleased.

"If that's all we need, Dick, how would this one over here do for our
purposes?" and, speaking in this way, he directed the attention of his
chum to a tree not far away.

It was an unusually big tree, and both of them could see, though a
bit uncertainly, that it had some sort of cavity at its base. A hasty
examination convinced them they had found just what they were looking
for.

"We can creep in through that hole easily enough," said Roger, "because
it's big enough for a giant to pass through. I hope though, Dick, it
doesn't turn out to be the den of any wild beast."

"We can soon settle that!" declared Dick, as he took up a long stick,
over which he had just tripped, and thrust it in through the opening.

As no sound of surly remonstrance followed this action on his part, it
became evident that the hollow tree was not occupied by any animal.

"If it is a den there's nobody at home right now," announced Roger; "so
we can crawl through the doorway and settle down."

After his customary impetuous fashion he insisted on being the one to
lead the way, and was quickly inside the hollow tree.

"How do you find it?" asked Dick, thrusting his head through the
opening.

"There seems to be plenty of room for two in here," was the quick
reply; "and, although I don't just fancy the odor, still I think we
could do worse, especially if it comes on to rain hard."

Upon hearing this Dick hastened to creep through the hole, carrying his
gun with him of course. He had something on his mind, apparently, for
hardly had he reached the side of the other boy than Dick thrust his
gun into Roger's hands, remarking:

"I noticed an old stump just outside there, and I'd better go and roll
it up, so as to cover this opening, more or less."

"Then you must be thinking that some animal may come in here, and you
mean to block the passage so we will not be taken by surprise; is that
it?"

"Nothing less, Roger," Dick replied, as he started to crawl out again.

"If I can help you, let me know," called out Roger.

The stump did not prove to be very weighty, and Dick rolled it deftly
so that it covered all but a small fraction of the opening. Then he
crept inside, and the two of them had little trouble in closing most of
the remainder of the aperture.

"Well, to tell you the honest truth," admitted Roger, when this
undertaking had been completed, though plenty of air could still find
ingress, "I do feel a whole lot better, now that we've shut the door.
It can't be very pleasant to lie down to sleep in a hollow tree that
may be a panther's lair, and to wake up to find the savage beast coming
in on you."

Dick was as satisfied as his companion, even if less vociferous about
it.

"I guess that stump will make a good enough door," he went on to say,
chuckling, "and if we wake up to hear some one knocking, we can ask who
it is before we open up. Just as you say, it makes us feel more secure."

Satisfied with the way things were going Roger soon settled down to
make himself as comfortable as the conditions allowed.

"Perhaps this isn't as sweet and easy a bed as my own at home," he
remarked, after yawning several times; "but then, as my mother always
says, 'beggars mustn't be choosers.' And I can remember many a time
when I've slept in worse places than a hollow tree."

"Remember before you go to sleep, Roger, it's understood that the one
who happens to hear anything suspicious is to wake the other up. If you
feel me touch you on the arm and hear me whisper, keep as still as a
church mouse. It may mean that Indians are outside, and looking for us."

"I'll recollect, Dick, you can depend on it; and, if the tables should
be turned, so that I am the one to get wind of the danger first, I'll
do the same to you. So now, let's go to sleep."

Roger found very little trouble in putting his words into practice, and
in a few minutes Dick heard him breathing heavily.

As he felt very much inclined that way himself, Dick made no effort
to hold back sleep, and in a short time both lads were fast locked in
slumber.

Some time passed, just how long neither of them really knew, when
Dick felt a violent tug at his arm. He was wide-awake instantly, and
understood just where he was, as well as what the jerk signified.

"What is it?" he whispered, as he felt for his gun the first thing, as
though its touch would give him renewed confidence.

"Something or somebody is moving around outside, Dick," whispered Roger.

"Hist! listen!" remarked Dick, softly.

There was a slight scuffling sound, and the stump at the opening moved
violently. Then came the loud sniffing of some animal that was trying
to thrust its nose through a very small crevice and, apparently, could
not understand why the door was closed.

"It must be a bear," said Dick, no longer keeping his voice confined to
a whisper, but speaking aloud, "and this is his den. He wonders what
has happened, and it may be he scents us, for he's trying to push his
way in!"




CHAPTER XVIII

THE STORM


ROGER was considerably relieved when he heard his chum say this with
so much confidence. A bear might be troublesome, but it was not to be
compared with an Indian, for the latter was likely to have allies close
at hand who could be summoned by a signal whoop.

"Do you think the beast can move the stump?" he asked Dick, at the same
time feeling for his knife, which the other had turned over to Roger on
discovering that it was really his property.

"He is trying hard to do so," replied Dick.

"Just listen how he keeps on sniffing at that crack," continued the
other boy. "He knows that somebody has taken to his hollow tree, and he
doesn't seem to like it at all. How about giving him a shot, Dick? At
such close range you could easily knock him over."

Dick, however, had his own ideas about that. At least, he did not make
any preparations for the shot.

"To tell you the truth, Roger," he finally explained, "I'd rather not
waste my powder and ball on the old fellow. He'd be too tough for us to
use as food, and besides, the sound of the report might bring some of
the Indians down on us."

"I suppose you are right, Dick," commented Roger; "but it looks as
if we might have to do something to frighten the bear away. There
he starts again, trying to thrust the stump aside, and as sure as
anything, Dick, the breach is getting a little wider every time he
works at it."

"It seems so," agreed Dick, "and, as you say, we ought to do something
to put a stop to his scratching and dragging. Wait a minute, I've an
idea I can fix it!"

With these words he put his long rifle behind him so that it was safe
in Roger's hands. In case of actual necessity the latter would know
what to do with the fire-arm; but just then he was very curious to
learn what Dick had arranged.

He could hear him moving, and he seemed to lean forward until his
hands were perilously near the small opening at which the nose of the
bear was working just as the snout of a hog might be used to move an
obstacle.

The champing of teeth, along with the loud sniffing, continued.

"What are you doing, Dick?" asked Roger, finally, unable to stand the
suspense any longer.

"Oh!" came the cheery reply, "I have wasted a charge or two of powder,
placing it as near the opening as I can, and running a thread this
way. Now I have my flint and steel ready, and, as soon as he starts to
poking his nose in at the hole again, I'll strike fire, and explode the
powder in his face!"

Roger saw the object of this, and was considerably interested in the
outcome.

"I hope he gets the full benefit of the flash," he observed.

Dick saw his chance just then, and he could be heard striking the flint
and steel rapidly together after the manner of one whom long experience
in this line had made almost perfect.

There came a little shower of descending sparks, and then a sudden
brilliant flash that lit up the interior of the hollow tree as though
the sun had found a means of ingress.

"Hurrah!" cried Roger, clapping his hands in glee, "that was the
time you gave old Eph the scare of his life! Hear him plunging off,
will you, Dick? It seems as if he'd lost all desire to make the
acquaintance of his new lodgers. And I don't think we'll be bothered
any more by Mr. Bear, do you?"

Dick also laughed softly as he replied:

"He must have had his nose singed that time, and got a bad fright in
the bargain, so I reckon we'll not be annoyed again."

"This powder smoke is choking me, Dick."

"But it's slowly rising in the tree, and things are getting better
right along," Roger was told. "We'll wait awhile until the air is
purer, and after that we'll drag the old stump back to where it was
before the bear moved it."

"And then?" queried Roger.

"Go to sleep again, if you feel like it, because we have some hours of
the night still ahead of us," Dick calmly told him.

Before they could settle down they noticed that the wind was soughing
through the trees with a louder note than before.

"That storm is coming closer all the while," remarked Dick, "and we
needn't be surprised to hear thunder at any time now."

"If it does come," added Roger, sleepily, "we'll be glad to have such a
fine shelter in the rain. But it may fool us after all, and for one I
don't mean to lie awake waiting for it."

Dick, too, managed to get to sleep before a great while. Both of them
were presently aroused by a loud crash of thunder.

"Why, it did get here after all, Dick!" exclaimed Roger, the first
thing.

"Listen and you can hear the rain further along beating down on the
forest trees. One good thing about it is that the storm will probably
not be a long one."

Dick's words were immediately followed by a vivid flash of lightning,
and then came another loud detonation that seemed to shake the earth.

In these present days two wide-awake boys who had picked up some
knowledge of woodcraft would be very much alarmed to find themselves in
a hollow tree during an electrical storm, knowing that there was always
a chance of the lightning's striking such an object and bringing about
their destruction.

Dick and Roger were not worried on that point. Perhaps it was because
they were accustomed to taking hazards; or it may have sprung from
ignorance of the danger.

However, the hollow tree had lost its top long years ago, and was
surrounded by loftier trees so the chances of its being struck were not
serious.

Then the rain came, and, from the sounds that reached their ears, the
boys decided that it was almost a tropical downpour. Roger was on the
alert to discover whether their shelter was going to prove its worth,
or begin to leak. After some time had passed he voiced his conviction
in his usual fashion.

"Not a drop so far, Dick, and I believe we're going to keep dry jackets
through the whole downpour. Why, this is better than being in one of
the tents, for they nearly always let a stream of water trickle down
your neck when you're not expecting it. I think we're mighty lucky to
have such good shelter."

"And I agree with every word you say, Roger," his companion added.

"How is the night going, do you know?" continued the other.

"I'm sure I can hardly say, Roger. At a guess I might venture to say
that we may have something like two hours more of darkness."

"Then all I hope is the storm will peter out before dawn, so we can
start for the river right away. We ought to come upon the expedition by
evening, unless we get lost, and that is something not likely to happen
to boys like us, who have lived in the woods since they were knee-high
to grasshoppers."

"One thing sure, we have had all the sleep we're going to get
to-night," Dick remarked.

"It seems to me the rain has slackened some. At least, it doesn't make
such a terrible noise when it strikes the trees. But there was a pretty
lively wind blowing, Dick, and I think I heard more than one tree crash
down before the gale."

"Yes," added the other. "And this old wreck did some groaning, too.
Once I was in a sweat thinking it might go toppling over; but the other
trees must have protected it some, for it stood through the wild storm."

When Roger hazarded the opinion that the gale was abating he spoke the
truth, for in a short time it became manifest that the thunder came
from a more distant point, the lightning was not so brilliant, and the
rain itself began to fall more lightly.

In fact, things took on such a different tone that Roger actually
settled himself down to try for a little more sleep.

Dick had been too thoroughly aroused to think of doing this. He
continued to sit there, keeping a vigil on the crack, through which
he knew he would catch the first glimpse of breaking day. He amused
himself while sitting thus by letting his thought go back to the happy
home far down the "Big Muddy," where his father and his mother, his
little brother Sam, and his grandparents besides, occupied the big
cabin in the clearing, close to the one where Roger's parents lived.

Finally, Dick discovered that it was no longer pitch dark outside. The
moon had broken out from the scattering storm clouds, and was giving a
fair amount of light.

Dick, always in touch with the positions of the heavenly bodies, knew,
after he had located the fragment of a moon, that morning was indeed
close at hand. Indeed, he believed that in less than half an hour the
dawn would break.

He allowed Roger to sleep until it was broad daylight, and then, acting
under the belief that they had better be on their way, he laid a hand
on the other's arm.

"Morning has come, and we ought to be getting out of here," Dick told
his comrade, as he felt the other move under his touch.

"Why, I did go to sleep after all, it seems," muttered Roger, as though
he considered this the queerest thing of all; but Dick only smiled,
for he knew of old some of the little weaknesses of his chum.

They succeeded in pushing the old stump away from the opening, leaving
a gap big enough for them to crawl through.

"If Mr. Bear ever takes the trouble to come back to his den," remarked
Roger, as he surveyed the big tree with its hollow butt, "he's welcome
to his old quarters. I'd like to tell him that his hole is all right,
too, when a fellow is caught in a storm; but we have other fish to fry
just now."

His words reminded him of the fine mess of trout they had caught on the
preceding day, just before the trap set by the cunning Indians had been
sprung, and shortly afterwards he remarked:

"I do hope our friends found all the strings of trout we left along the
bank of that stream; and that there were more than they could use at
one time. It would be fine if we got a taste of the same, Dick, after
all this fuss."

"I was just thinking," remarked practical Dick, who certainly was not
bothering his head about trout, or any other kind of food, "that, after
all, that storm may have done us one kindness."

"Tell me how, then?" demanded Roger, who failed to agree with him until
he could be shown the facts.

"The rain must have washed all our tracks out, so not even the
sharpest-eyed Indian brave could follow our trail," explained the
other, and of course Roger found himself in full accord with the theory
advanced, for, like the story of Columbus and the envious Spanish
courtiers, things looked very different after the explanation.

With a last backward look toward the friendly old tree that had
afforded them shelter in the storm, the two lads tightened their belts
and set off on their long tramp, expecting to strike the bank of the
Missouri by the time the sun was ready to set.




CHAPTER XIX

UNDER THE FALLEN FOREST MONARCH


"THERE! that makes the fourth tree I've seen blown down in the storm,"
remarked Roger, after they had been walking through the forest for some
time.

"Yes, and in every case if you went to the trouble to examine those
trees," he was told by Dick, "you would find that they were rotten at
the heart. They may keep on standing up with the rest, and seem to be
perfect, but when the wind sweeps through the forest it searches out
the weak and imperfect trees, and topples them over."

"That must be what grandfather means when he talks about the 'survival
of the fittest,'" Roger mused. "He says that Nature knows what is best
for everything, and keeps thinning out the weak ones along every line."

"Then there must have been a lot of poor trash over yonder," chuckled
Dick, "for I can see a number of trees down."

"Oh! what was that!" suddenly asked Roger.

"It sounded to me like a groan," his companion admitted, as both of
them stood still in order to listen.

"There it comes again, Dick, and, just as you said, it must be a groan.
I wonder if any one could have been caught under a tree when it fell?"

"We must be cautious how we move forward," as Dick's advice, "because
we know the treacherous nature of these Indians."

"Do you mean it might turn out to be a trap?" demanded Roger.

"There is always a chance of that, so, while we make our way in that
direction, we must be ready to run if we discover any lurking reds
about."

Dick also kept his rifle in readiness in case of a sudden emergency. It
might be a shot would check a rush on the part of their enemies, and
thus enable the boys to get a fair start.

Guided by the groans, which now came louder and more frequently, they
were not long in making a discovery.

"Dick, I see him!" exclaimed Roger, in fresh excitement; "and, sure
enough, he is caught in the branches of that big tree over there. It
isn't a trap after all, but some one in trouble."

[Illustration: "THEY PUSHED FORWARD, AND WERE SOON AT THE FALLEN TREE"]

"And an Indian at that, Roger," added the other, as he, too, managed to
catch a glimpse of the unfortunate one.

"Will that make any difference; or do you think he may be just
shamming?" asked Roger, hesitating.

"There is no mistake about his being in a bad fix," ventured Dick. "He
may not be terribly hurt, but the tree has pinned him down, you can
see; and if we left the poor fellow there he would either starve to
death or else be devoured by the wild beasts."

"Oh! we never could have the heart to do that," asserted Roger, who
possessed a generous nature, like all his headstrong class.

They pushed forward, and were soon at the fallen tree. The Indian must
have discovered their presence, for he had ceased groaning, as though
too proud to show any sign of cowardice. A brave would sooner have his
hand cut off than be reckoned timid or weak.

"How are we going to get him out of that trap?" Roger remarked, after
they had looked the situation over. "We have no hatchet for cutting the
limb, and my knife would never do the job in a day."

"He's held down as if in a vise," Dick observed thoughtfully, "and I
can see only one way of getting him loose. Let me have your knife and
I'll hack my way in close to him. There seems to be just one avenue
open for that."

Roger, filled with curiosity, watched his cousin set to work. He could
readily understand how the other intended to reach the side of the
imprisoned brave, but just what means he expected to use in order to
free the warrior Roger was unable to guess.

A short time afterwards Dick had gained the side of the brave, to whom
he spoke a few words; and, doubtful whether he was understood, these
were supplemented by various reassuring gestures.

Then, to the astonishment of Roger, Dick started to dig furiously
in the ground. At first his intentions were a mystery to Roger, who
wrinkled his brow as he looked on. All at once, however, he grasped the
idea.

"Now I can see what you're up to, Dick," he called out; "and I must say
it looks like a winning scheme. All you have to do is to dig under the
brave, and let him sink down a little. Then, when the pressure of those
limbs grows less, he can either squirm out himself, or be dragged
forth."

That, in fact, was the idea Dick had conceived in his fertile brain. He
continued to delve away with a steady purpose in view, and presently
it could be seen that he was making an impression on the earth. The
trapped Indian brave began to sink downward by slow degrees until
finally the pressure had relaxed to such an extent that by making a
great effort, and assisted by Dick, he managed to wriggle out from
under the limbs of the fallen tree.

He had been hurt in various places, though Dick did not believe any of
his wounds were really serious. Accustomed, as they were, to treating
injuries, it was only natural for the boys to make up their minds that
they would do something for the poor fellow.

When Dick made motions to this effect, the Indian allowed them to do
what they willed, although he watched every movement with eyes that
were filled with curiosity.

"I wonder whether he's more surprised at seeing us have this soothing
ointment mother made along with us, or that 'palefaces' should go to
such trouble just for an Indian?" Roger remarked, as he assisted in the
work. (Note 6.)

"It doesn't matter much which affects him most," said Dick, calmly, "we
are doing just what our parents have taught us to do. Besides, how can
we tell whether this brave is an enemy or a friend?"

"They say an Indian never forgets an injury, or an act of kindness,"
ventured Roger; "and, if that is true, we can count on one friend among
the Dacotahs, for I'm sure he belongs to that tribe."

"Yes, he is a Dacotah, but they all look alike to me, so I couldn't
say whether he was among those who captured us or not. He seems to
be listening to what we are saying, and I really believe he half
understands our talk. Perhaps he knows a little English, for there have
been white trappers who have penetrated this far."

"Suppose you try him, and see if he can understand, Dick?"

"I mean to do that," was the reply, "because I'd like to put a spoke in
the wheel of that revengeful Andrew Waller. He has told these foolish
Indians we are the sons of the Great White Father at Washington, and
that if we were held as prisoners a mighty ransom would be paid for our
release. We must convince the reds that it is false, and that we are
only ordinary white boys."

This idea held some weight with Dick, and after completing his work in
connection with the brave's wounds he commenced the attempt to talk
with him.

At first it looked as though there would be little chance of success;
but after a little he succeeded in getting the painted brave to
understand what he was trying to explain. This was done by means of
single words, accompanied by much gesturing and pointing.

If the Indian had not already known about the boys, and what was said
about their being the sons of the White Father he could never have
understood matters at all. Gradually Dick began to believe he was
hammering the facts into the head of the other. He saw a light as of
comprehension dawning on his painted face.

"I do believe you've managed to pound it into his brain, Dick," said
Roger, who had been an earnest witness of all this. "He looks as if he
knew what you wanted him to do. See, he even nods his head when you
speak."

Dick felt that he had reason to be proud of what he had done. To get an
Indian, who could not talk English, beyond a few words, to understand
that they were only ordinary, every-day boys instead of the important
personages Andrew Waller had pictured, was a triumph indeed.

"I am asking him to pass the news along, and spread it far and wide,"
explained Dick, as he continued his gestures and forceful words; "and
I think he knows. Here, let me do a little picture writing for him;
perhaps that may help."

He picked up a piece of smooth bark, and, using the point of Roger's
hunting knife, managed to scratch several crude designs upon it. Two of
these represented the rising and the setting sun. Then a figure with a
Dacotah head-dress stood half way between with arms outstretched.

Showing this to the brave, Dick once more began to speak and make
gestures. While he could not of course be certain, still he had every
reason to believe that the other understood what he was driving at, for
he nodded, touched each of the boys on the chest, then shook his head
in the negative, and said something in the Dacotah tongue which Dick
fancied meant White Father.

"That's the best I can do with him, Roger; and now we must be on our
way again. Whether it works or not, at least we can feel that we have
done the right thing."




CHAPTER XX

THE RETURN FROM CAPTIVITY


THEY parted from the Dacotah brave with what was doubtless intended to
be grateful gestures on his part.

"He seems to understand that we have played the part of friends," said
Roger, "and I think if the chance ever comes up he will stand by us."

"I am of the same opinion," declared Dick, "though for that matter I
hope we may never need his help. After all, we did not lose much time,
and it was worth while to save a life."

They pushed on diligently for a long time. Dick was not in doubt as to
his course, for he had taken particular pains to notice as they came
along on the preceding day, in the company of the Indians.

When Roger happened to ask once if he were quite sure the river lay
directly ahead of them, Dick answered confidently.

"Unless it makes a great sweep to the north somewhere above us we will
run upon the river by nightfall, take my word for it;" and Roger,
accustomed to depending fully on his comrade, never doubted after that
moment.

Something else was soon upon his mind, however, and he voiced his
thoughts by appealing to Dick.

"Do you think it would be dangerous if you shot your gun off just once,
in case we sighted some game? I feel very hungry, for that supper the
Indians gave us didn't seem to do me much good. And breakfast is one of
my best meals, you know."

Dick laughed at seeing the appealing look on his chum's face.

"I don't think the danger of the shot's being heard is one-half as
great as you think you are of starving to death," he told Roger.

"Then you agree, do you?" demanded the other, eagerly. "I'll keep my
eyes peeled for sight of a deer, and I do hope it isn't going to be
long before we get a chance at one."

As luck would have it, before another ten minutes had passed the
opportunity he was hoping for came their way. Dick was ready, and with
the report of his gun a yearling doe fell in a heap, just when in the
act of plunging into the dense thicket.

Of course Roger would not think of any delay in getting a fire going
and some of the tender meat broiling before the flames. While he looked
after the fire Dick cut up the game, and it was not long before an
appetizing odor began to make both boys wishful for the feast to begin.

"We can make up for this stop," said Roger as he sat there devouring
piece after piece of the half-cooked venison, "by not halting at noon
for a rest. Then again, we can hurry our steps at times and so get
along faster."

"No trouble about that," Dick assured him, "for I figure that we have
plenty of time to get there by dark. You remember that we were only on
the move some six hours yesterday, and we have the whole of to-day for
tramping."

"Do you know, Dick, this reminds me of how we chased after the
expedition for weeks and weeks when determined to find Jasper Williams,
and get that paper signed for our parents. Hundreds of miles we
followed the trail as it ascended the Missouri River, until at last we
overtook them."[4]

"What we did once we can do again, this time on a small scale," Dick
assured him. "I was just watching those crows over there in that
tree-top. They seem to be holding a regular caucus, and keep on
scolding like everything."

"Yes," added the other boy, "and sometimes crows turn out to be a pest
in lots of ways besides eating the settler's corn. Old hunters have
told me they hide from crows whenever they find themselves in hostile
territory, because through their cawing the birds tell the Indians
strangers are in the woods."

"There, the whole lot has flown away, and making all sorts of noises
in the bargain," Dick went on to say. "I don't like crows myself any
too much. They are too noisy, and seem to think every one is trying to
creep up on them for a shot."

"When we do strike the river, Dick, can we easily tell whether the
expedition has passed or not?"

"All we have to do is to examine the ground, for their horses would
leave a plain trail, you know, Roger."

"And if, after searching, we do not find any sign, we will know they
haven't come along yet. In that case all we have to do will be to sit
down, and take things easy until they show up."

Roger seemed to have left most of his troubles behind, after making a
good breakfast on the deer meat. With the intention of chiding him for
displaying any eagerness for food when there was none to be had, Dick
took up the subject again as they trudged manfully onward.

"It's very plain to be seen that you'd never make a good Indian
brave, Roger," was what he told the other, and this excited the boy's
curiosity just as Dick knew would be the case.

"Tell me why," he demanded. "I always thought I could stand pain
without flinching as well as any Indian boy; and I've learned a lot
about wild life in the bargain. Where do I fall short, Dick?"

"It's just this way," his cousin told him. "An Indian boy is taught
never to display his feelings, no matter what he suffers inwardly. If
he were struck by a poisonous rattlesnake, and could feel his body
swelling, not a whimper would come from his lips."

"Well, what has that to do with me, Dick? So far I have never been
attacked by a rattlesnake, though I've killed plenty of the ugly
varmints, I wager."

"But you did put on a long face, and you complained because for once
you missed your breakfast. Now, an Indian boy would never have said a
word, but held in grimly to the end. Not that I blame you, remember,
for I was hungry myself, and ready to use my gun, even before you
mentioned it."

They both laughed at that.

"We were born 'paleface' boys," said Roger, "and it's hard for the
leopard to change its spots, they say. When we're hungry we know it,
yes, and we don't mind letting other people know it, too, if that will
help things along."

Noon came and went.

They kept persistently moving forward. Occasionally they came to open
places in the forest where the grass grew green, and often did they
glimpse deer feeding in these glades. Once they even saw a small herd
of buffaloes trooping off, having apparently winded the boys.

But Dick made no motion to use his gun again. They had all the fresh
meat they required, and powder and balls were too precious to be
needlessly wasted. So the afternoon came and found them keeping up that
determined pace. If either of them felt tired they failed to mention
the fact, which in itself was pretty positive evidence that they
possessed many of the best traits of the Indian character, after all.

From long habit they were accustomed to such exercise as this, and
would not have complained had the tramp kept up far into the coming
night.

It was about the middle of the afternoon when Roger gave a low
exclamation of delight.

"I can see the river ahead of us, Dick!" he cried, with a vein of deep
satisfaction in his voice.

"Yes, I have been waiting to hear you say that, Roger, for I glimpsed
it five minutes back. So you see after all we have made good time. We
shall be there long before sunset."

"I must say I am glad to know it," Roger admitted; and then hastily
added: "Not that I doubted your word a bit, but then, 'seeing is
believing,' you know, Dick."

"Yes, and, confident as I was myself, I am relieved to see the river
glimmering in the sunlight before us," Dick frankly admitted.

"It can hardly be more than two miles or so away from here, wouldn't
you say?" questioned Roger, always ready to have any assertion he might
make backed up by the word of his chum, in whom he had such positive
faith.

"About that," the other told him, as they once more started ahead.

When finally they stood on the high bank of the river, no longer the
mighty stream they knew it down near their home, and looked at the
opposite shore, the sun was still more than an hour high.

"Now to find out if they have passed by, and whether we will have to
keep on up the river," said Dick, as he began to look about him.

A brief search convinced them that no horses had passed that point.
They saw the marks of deer, and buffaloes, as well as some very large
imprints made by cloven hoofs, that startled the boys, for they did not
know what sort of strange animal had made them; but it was sure that
horses had not been present.

"That settles it then," said Roger, with a sigh of relief, for he would
much rather just sit there and wait for the expedition to come along,
than be compelled to follow for miles after it.

"We will make camp here to-night if they fail to show up," asserted
Dick, which piece of information pleased Roger, his pleasure showing in
the broad smile of contentment that broke over his face.

With plenty of good venison to last them through many days, what
need had they to worry? They knew the exploring party bound for the
other side of the mountains was sure to come along, sooner or later;
when they could once more join their good friends, and take their
accustomed places as though nothing unusual had happened.

Dick selected a certain spot on which to settle and wait for the
exploring party. In doing this he had in mind the fact that it afforded
them a clear view down the river. A bend lay just a quarter of a mile
below their position, around which they could expect the boats to
appear, sooner or later.

Lying at their ease the boys talked of many things as they awaited the
coming of the expedition. Their recent experience of course came in
for a good share of attention, for it still thrilled them to compare
notes of the night attack, when those hideous whoops were ringing in
their ears, together with the heavy percussion of blows as the fierce
Shoshones invaded the camp of the Dacotahs and struggled hand-to-hand
for the supremacy.

The sun was sinking lower and lower, so that it really began to look as
though, after all, the boys would have to make camp where they were.
Apparently the expedition had spent some little time looking for the
lost ones, and Dick had struck the river further up than they had as
yet penetrated.

Suddenly Roger discovered a moving object down the river. Then, around
the bend, a boat came in sight, in which they could see white men, some
of them soldiers.

At the same time voices from the shore reached their ears, and they
caught fugitive glimpses of moving figures advancing along a buffalo
trail close to the edge of the bank. These latter they realized must be
the party mounted on the horses, and who always kept near the boats for
mutual protection and company.

"That settles it then, Dick. We will not have to camp by ourselves
to-night; and, after all, I'm glad of it. Not that I don't enjoy being
off with you alone, but up here, so far away from the settlements, it
makes me feel better to know I am in company with some dozens of other
whites."

"I think there's still another reason why you are glad they are
coming," ventured Dick, shrewdly; "you keep on hoping they may not have
devoured all of those fine trout we caught yesterday, and that you can
still have a chance to taste some of them."

Roger would neither admit nor deny the accusation, but only laughed and
prepared to wave his cap toward the men in the leading boat a minute
later.

It could be seen that quite some excitement followed the discovery
that the two missing boys were above, waiting for the boats to arrive.
Voices were heard conveying the intelligence to the other boats, and
loud shouts attested to the fact that the men rejoiced over the safe
return of the lost ones.

The spot offered very good accommodations for stopping over night, and
so, upon arriving opposite the lads, the boats made for the shore. Dick
and Roger soon found themselves being heartily greeted by all their
good friends. Most of the men had really given them up for lost when
they learned the fact that they had been carried off by the Dacotahs,
after being so treacherously led into a trap by the seemingly friendly
brave who had loitered so long about the camp.

The two captains were among the first to shake the hands of the pioneer
boys, and assure them of their deep satisfaction at seeing them again.
Of course every one was anxious to know what had happened to them, and
the boys were compelled to tell their story again and again as the
tents were being pitched and preparations made for the night camp.

It was admitted by all that they had been exceedingly lucky. At the
same time, every one knew that the boys deserved great credit for their
clever escape from the hands of the Dacotahs. Dick had planned it all
very cleverly so as to make their escape possible even though there
had been no midnight attack on the part of the Shoshones, though, of
course, they might have been followed and had further trouble.

As darkness set in, the bustling scene gave the two lads much pleasure
and contentment. They could not but compare this night with the one
that had gone just before, when they had sat in the midst of their
dusky captors, not knowing what lay in store for them in the near
future.

No sooner was supper set before them than Roger turned a beaming face
toward Dick, as he voiced his feelings of delight.

"You see, they didn't make way with those fish after all, Dick, because
they were not found until late in the evening. So they just cleaned
and salted them down, and we're to have the greatest treat you ever
tasted to-night. It sometimes pays to wait patiently for things to come
along," and, seeing Dick smiling, he winked knowingly, after which he
bustled off to watch the process by means of which the fish were to be
prepared for the coming meal.

FOOTNOTE:

[4] See "The Pioneer Boys of the Missouri."




CHAPTER XXI

AT THE FOOT OF THE ROCKIES


"THE time is coming, and very soon at that, I guess, Dick, when we must
expect a great change in our going."

Roger made this remark some two weeks after their adventure with the
rascally Dacotahs, who had been misled by the false words of Andrew
Waller. All this while the whites had been steadfastly pushing farther
and farther up the narrowing Missouri, until navigation had become very
difficult.

"Yes, I know what you mean by that," remarked Dick. "Every day now we
are having more and more trouble with the batteaux. They get aground so
often that much valuable time is wasted in freeing them."

"It looks as if we might be nearly at the headwaters of the Missouri,
the river is getting so shallow," Roger observed.

"That is probably partly due to the time of year," explained Dick. "We
are well along in August, you must remember, and the snow doesn't melt
as easily up in the mountain canyons now as it did earlier in the
season. Besides, we have had little heavy rain, if you stop to think."

"What do you expect Captain Lewis will do, Dick?"

"I heard him saying only to-day, when they were working at the boat
which stuck on the shoal, that it looked as though the limit had been
reached. You understand what that means, of course, Roger?"

"I believe I do," was the reply. "From what I've picked up here and
there it appears to be the plan to leave part of the expedition in camp
somewhere along the upper reaches of the Missouri until next year,
while the rest make a dash for the Coast on the horses."

"It was fixed," continued Dick, "that Captain Clark should lead the
party headed for the sea; but I have heard since that Captain Lewis
has changed his mind. He doesn't feel like being cheated out of that
glorious sight after all he has passed through."

"And who can blame him?" burst out the impetuous Roger. "I only hope
they let us keep along with them. We have a horse apiece, you know, and
could easily hold our own when it came to hunting for game."

"Captain Lewis promised that we should set eyes on the sea if any one
in the party did, and he is a man of his word, you know."

"I should never get over the disappointment," declared Roger, "if
anything prevented us from keeping on to the end. We have made great
sacrifices in order to be in the company. Besides, I am fairly burning
to set eyes on some of the many wonders we expect to meet with in
crossing the big mountains of rock. The Indians have kept telling us
about strange animals to be encountered there."

"Those mountains," Dick went on to say, "are the home of the terrible
brown bear which Captain Lewis has called the grizzly. We know how they
can fight, because we had an experience in a cave with one that we're
not likely ever to forget."[5]

"Yes," added Roger, "and according to the Indians' way of doing, we're
entitled to wear those dreadful claws around our necks, after slaying
the monster at close quarters. Whenever you run across an Indian with
the claws of a grizzly bear worn as a necklace you can count on it that
he's proved his right to the name of warrior.

"Then we've also heard of a beast living among the crags of these
mountains that has immense curved horns, upon which he alights after
throwing himself from some lofty height. That may be only a fairy
story, but I'd like to see for myself if there's any truth in it.

"As for me, Dick, I've already made up my mind that I'll shoot one of
those queer beasts, and get a sample of the curved horns, if ever the
chance comes my way. Just yesterday I was thinking of the wonderful
tracks we saw when we were having that adventure with the Dacotahs, and
hoping that some of these fine days we might come upon the animal that
made them."

"I have tried my best, Roger, to learn what the beast looks like, and
the nearest any Indian has been able to tell is that once in a while
a monster of the deer tribe is seen in these regions. None of the
trappers in our party have an idea what it can be, save Batiste, who
declares he has shot just such a great beast up in Canada."

"Then he must mean a moose!" exclaimed Roger, looking intensely
interested. "Come to think of it now, I don't see why a moose might not
wander over here. They live only in cold countries, I am told, but in
the winter it must be bitter enough up here to please any one."

Just as the boys had said, when talking matters over between
themselves, the river had become so shallow that it was folly to try to
push the heavy batteaux any further up the current.

Accordingly, a permanent camp was to be established on the river bank,
where a part of the men would be left in as comfortable circumstances
as the conditions permitted. Here they were to stay until they were
rejoined the following summer by the returning explorers, after they
had been to the Coast.

Those who were to be left behind were to establish relations and make
friends with the neighboring Indian tribes, serve them as physicians,
and do what hunting was necessary.

Of course the scene in the camp that night was an unusual one. The men
who were to accompany the two captains had been advised of their good
fortune, and, while they showed signs of pleasure, at the same time
they knew that the final stages of the big journey would be filled with
peril, so, in one way, they really envied those who could stay behind
in comfort and peace.

There was an air of half-suppressed excitement throughout the camp as
the men conferred together, exchanged some of their possessions, and in
numerous ways made ready for the parting that was coming so soon.

Captain Lewis did not have many preparations to make, for all along
he and his able ally had seen that everything was kept at the highest
notch of efficiency.

"I really do believe," said Roger, as he and his chum sat watching the
many sights of the camp that evening, "that Captain Lewis has planned
for every little thing that could happen; and whoever is left in charge
here will know what he is to do from day to day, just as if he got his
orders fresh from headquarters."

"That is partly the result of having a man like Captain Clark along,"
explained Dick. "He believes in method, and carries his ideas out as
a military man should. Captain Lewis could not have found a better
companion for his venture than he did."

"It is settled that we are to go along with them, of course?" fretted
Roger, who knew perfectly well that this matter had been arranged, but
wanted to hear his comrade say so.

"We have the word of the commander for it, and that ought to be enough,
Roger."

One whole day they spent in the camp by the river so that nothing
should be neglected. Then, on the following morning, bright and early
the good-bys were said, and the little party, mounted on the horses,
set out to plunge still deeper into the unknown wilderness toward the
glittering prize that tempted them--the sun-kissed sea that lay far
away over mountains and across burning deserts.

It was only natural that every one should be more or less affected over
the parting. None of them could tell what the future held. Surrounded
by a trackless wilderness, many hundreds of miles from a single white
man's village, and with treacherous savages to deal with, the chances
of their ever coming together again seemed very remote.

During that day both the boys were inclined to be unusually quiet and
thoughtful. Indeed, for that matter, every one of the riders seemed to
have lost his ordinary spirits, although, of course, this feeling of
depression would soon wear away, and by degrees the men would learn to
face the situation bravely.

It was evident to every one that the party was now approaching the
foothills of those great mountains of which so much had been heard.
Captain Lewis knew that, in order to cross them with as little hard
work as possible, they must head for a pass of which they had been told
by some of the Indians. Unless they could find this, their efforts
would be in vain, and they must turn back, defeated in their daring
plans.

Three days after leaving their comrades the advancing party came to a
good camping ground early in the afternoon, and, as the horses were
really in need of a rest, it was concluded to stop here for the night.

This was an opportunity the two boys had been waiting for, and they had
little difficulty in getting permission from the commander to indulge
themselves in a short hunt.

The camp was in need of fresh meat, though not desperately so; and
if only a deer could be taken it would afford them a few good meals.
Captain Lewis, knowing Roger's headstrong ways, took particular pains
to caution them before they set out.

"See that you take no unnecessary chances, my boys," was what he had
said. "We would be very sorry, indeed, to have to bear your parents
bad news when next we see St. Louis. But I feel that, so long as Dick
is along, you will be careful. And, if you can bring the carcass of a
young deer back with you, so much the better."

It was a fine afternoon in late summer. There did not seem to be any
sign of stormy weather in prospect, from which fact the boys felt sure
they would not be compelled to look for a hollow tree as before.

First of all they were wise enough to take their bearings, for they
certainly did not want to lose themselves in the vast wilderness, since
they could no longer depend on finding their friends by simply hunting
for the river.

Then the next thing was to hunt up into the wind. This was, of course,
done so that if they were approaching some keen-nosed game the animal
might not scent their presence, and depart before they could get a
chance to fire a single shot.

It was a wild section of country. They could see, beyond, the mighty
barrier of mountains that stood between them and their goal. The woods
were composed of scrub trees, with openings here and there; though in
most sections, east of the chain of mountains, prairie land existed.

From where they looked up to the dizzy heights, the sides of the
mountains seemed bleak and rocky. They had been told, however, that on
the western <DW72> vegetation grew plentifully, as the winds from the
ocean brought much rain, though little of this crossed the divide.

The boys pursued their hunt for nearly an hour without coming upon any
game, although they saw plenty of signs of it, and were always counting
on making a discovery. Versed in forest lore, they knew how to creep
along without making any sound likely to give warning of their approach.

All conversation had been tabooed long since, for even Roger knew that
an incautious word might spoil their plans, and give the unseen deer
notice of their presence in the vicinity.

It was while they were thus moving along that Dick suddenly thrust out
a hand and drew his companion to a standstill. Roger turned his head
quickly, as though he did not comprehend what this meant, only to see
Dick's finger pressed on his lips to indicate silence.

At the same moment Roger himself caught the low thud of hoofs. Some
animal was certainly approaching them, and the singular "clicking" that
accompanied each thud told them the beast must have cloven hoofs like
those of a deer.

A few seconds passed during which the strange sounds grew louder, and
then, as the bushes parted, the two boys gazed upon a sight such as had
never before greeted their astonished eyes.

FOOTNOTE:

[5] See "The Pioneer Boys of the Yellowstone."




CHAPTER XXII

THE DEATH OF THE BULL MOOSE


SEEN for the first time in all their experience as hunters of big game,
the animal that stood there facing the two boys was remarkable enough
to arouse their interest to fever pitch.

Tawny of hue, and possessing an enormous muzzle, together with towering
horns, the giant moose filled Roger with a sense of exaltation.
The hunter instinct within the boy set his heart to beating like a
trip-hammer, and his fingers involuntarily gripped his gun, his first
instinct being to make use of the weapon.

The moose evidently did not suspect their presence nearby. So far as
appearances went, the big, awkward animal was showing no signs of alarm.

Roger hastily threw his rifle up to his shoulder, and, without
bothering to take exact aim, pulled the trigger. He never really knew
why he did not drop the beast as he expected to do. It might be because
this weapon did not compare with his own, which had been carried
off by the treacherous Andrew Waller at the time the two boys were
prisoners of the Dacotahs.

Dick, however, believed that the moose bull must have made an
involuntary movement just about that time. Roger's hasty action, or the
glint of the sun on the gun barrel, would be enough to bring such a
thing about.

The one important fact was that, instead of killing his intended quarry
on the spot, Roger had the chagrin of seeing the animal stumble and
fall, to scramble immediately to his feet again, and make a vicious
plunge forward in their direction.

Dick of course knew that it was his duty to get in the fatal shot.
He thrust his rifle forward, and had it not been for an unfortunate
movement on the part of his companion his bullet would have finished
the monster.

In jumping back, however, Roger happened to knock against the leveled
rifle just as his chum pressed the trigger. The result was a wasted
bullet, and, with both their weapons empty and useless, a serious
outlook faced the two young hunters.

"Jump to one side!" shouted Dick, realizing that the enraged moose was
charging them, with lowered head, and threatening horns.

Both boys threw themselves back, and in this manner successfully
avoided the passing danger.

They knew that a wounded stag is often a peril from which even veteran
hunters shrink; and it stood to reason that this enormous animal,
feeling the pain of his injury, would not run away in a hurry after
having made one unsuccessful charge.

Both boys glanced hastily around, seeking a tree behind which to ward
off an attack. Dick was fortunate enough to find one close at hand, but
Roger met with his usual ill luck to start with.

The moose, as though sensing which one of his enemies had given him
that burning injury, took after Roger, and the boy, hearing the
trampling of his hoofs as he came rushing on, became a little confused.

"Run, Roger, run faster!" shrilled Dick, who began to fear for the
safety of his cousin.

There were surely grounds for his alarm, for, just at that moment,
Roger caught his foot in some trailing vine and plunged forward. With
wonderful adroitness, however, the border boy managed to regain his
feet, and face the oncoming moose bull.

It was too late for him to continue his flight, and there did not
seem to be even time enough for the boy to scramble out of harm's
way. Dick's heart burned within him with fear. He would have given
everything he possessed in the wide world if just then his gun were
only loaded and primed, ready for use.

Roger, however, saw that there was immediate need for action, and he
took a strange way of meeting the occasion. Dick, staring at the scene,
saw his chum suddenly leap toward the oncoming moose bull. He actually
flung himself upon that great, lowered head, falling between the
towering horns, and hastened to clasp his arms about the animal's thick
neck.

This act plainly greatly astonished the beast, and he stood stock still
for a brief interval.

Dick's one fear was that the moose should set off at a lumbering pace
through the woods, and bring up against some tree with such force as
to break the sprawling legs of the clinging boy. He himself was trying
in a confused fashion to get a charge of powder down the barrel of his
gun, instinct telling him that, once he managed to reload the weapon,
the game would be in his hands.

Now the moose was trying to dislodge Roger by tossing up his head.
Each time he made the effort Dick held his breath in suspense, for the
boy's hold was precarious, and might give way at any moment. It was
apparently the intention of the bull to shake him loose in this way,
and, after the boy dropped back to the ground, to trample him underfoot
before he could recover sufficiently to get out of the way.

Sometimes strange things happen in cases like this. The moose must have
put an additional amount of energy into one of his tosses, for Dick
suddenly saw Roger's form rising several yards in the air, and crash
amidst the leaves of the tree under which this performance was taking
place.

The moose waited for the fall of his enemy in order to use those cruel
hoofs of his in the final attack. But, remarkable to say, Roger did not
come down, and Dick suddenly realized that his nimble chum had taken
advantage of his lofty flight to lay hold of the branches of the tree,
and to cling there as best he could.

Dick felt like giving vent to a shout when he realized that, so far
as Roger was concerned, the danger could be considered over. He was
now reaching for a patched bullet, and hoped with his ramrod to push
it quickly home on the powder, when he would be ready, all but the
priming, to make good use of his rifle.

Roger saw what was going on so close by, and commenced kicking with his
feet, and letting out a few derisive shouts, aimed at the waiting moose
below. He intended to hold the attention of the bulky animal so Dick
could have all the time he needed to get the gun loaded.

The plan worked splendidly, for the stupid animal below kept steady
vigil under the limb where all that thrashing was going on. He snorted
with rage, and pawed the earth with one of his hoofs, as if giving an
earnest example of what he meant to do when the strange enemy dropped
to the ground.

There was nothing to hinder Dick from completing his loading, and, as
he shook the priming powder into the pan and prepared to fire, he felt
sorry only for one thing. This was the fact that Roger could not be
the one to bring about the death of the kingly moose, since his heart
seemed to have been so set on accomplishing such a valorous deed.

It was more because he must save the life of his chum than through a
desire for the death of the monster moose that caused Dick finally to
pull trigger, after he had found a chance to aim back of the animal's
foreleg.

The shot was instantly fatal, for those long-barreled rifles of pioneer
days were capable of sending a bullet with tremendous force. The big
beast fell with a crash, and immediately afterwards a loud hurrah from
Roger announced that he gloried in the successful outcome of their
adventure.

It was easy enough for the nimble boy to drop from his perch. He limped
a little, and had a few minor bruises to show for his close contact
with those horns of the bull moose. On the whole, however, Roger
considered that he had been very lucky. Dick told him that he felt the
same, as they stood beside the fallen monarch of the forest, and noted
his powerful frame and muscles.

It was impossible to think of taking those towering horns back with
them, since they would have no way of carrying the trophy save on one
of their horses; and that was utterly out of the question.

"I feel a little sorry we had to kill the poor beast," admitted Dick,
"much as any hunter might be proud of bringing down such big game. But
his flesh is far too tough for food, and we can never dream of taking
those horns with us."

"Well, he looked as if he wanted to fight as soon as he saw us there,"
said Roger. "That was one reason I shot as quickly as I did. But, while
I had most of the fun, the glory remained for you, Dick."

"If you call that sort of thing fun, Roger, I don't admire your taste,
that's all I can say! When I saw him rushing at you with his head
lowered I felt a cold chill run up and down my back, for I thought you
were gone."

"I don't know just what made me fasten to his horns the way I did,"
explained Roger, with a broad grin; "but something seemed to tell me
that was my only chance, and I guess it was, too."

"How did you feel when going through the air?" questioned the other,
able to smile now at the odd spectacle Roger had presented, although at
the time it had seemed a serious thing indeed.

"About as near like flying as I ever expect to know," admitted Roger.
"And, just as soon as I found myself in the midst of the branches of
that tree, why something made me take hold and stick there. I seemed
to know the old fellow was waiting down below to trample me into bits
if I dropped back, and I wasn't meaning to oblige him if I could help
it."

"We might manage to chop off one of his hoofs with our knives to show
when we get back to camp, and prove that we really killed a moose,"
suggested Dick.

"That is a good idea," agreed his cousin; and it did not take them long
to carry the plan out. After this they left the spot, and resumed their
hunt, Roger having recovered and loaded his rifle.

They were a little afraid lest the sound of the gunshots might have
caused any deer happening to be in the vicinity to take the alarm and
flee. This would be too bad, after setting their hearts on procuring a
supply of fresh meat.

It turned out, however, that the deer did not know the deadly
significance of the firing of a gun, for within twenty minutes after
leaving the dead bull moose, the boys started a deer, and Roger this
time managed to do himself justice when he pulled trigger, for the
young stag bounded high in the air to fall in a quivering heap.

There was ample time to cut the game up and make their way back to
camp with their prize. Nor did they have the slightest difficulty in
gaining the spot where the expedition had planned to spend the coming
night, thanks to Dick's way of keeping his bearings when on a hunt.

These little side excursions were always in great favor with the two
boys. In carrying them out they were really killing two birds with one
stone; for they not only saw considerable of the country, and met with
adventures that pleased their love of action, but at the same time they
were able to keep the camp well supplied with fresh meat.

When they got back on this particular afternoon they found that there
was an Indian in the camp with whom Captain Lewis was making terms
looking to his serving them as guide until the lofty mountain range had
been crossed. It was of prime importance that they find that pass, and
cross over at the lowest possible level. Once the lower ground on the
other side was reached, they could congratulate themselves that the
worst was over.

At the ending of the next day they found themselves at the actual foot
of the mountains, of which they hoped to commence the ascent with the
advent of another morning.




CHAPTER XXIII

HUNTING THE MOUNTAIN SHEEP


"HOW terribly big they seem, towering so high above us," Roger remarked
to his cousin, as they stood just outside the camp that evening,
looking upward at the lofty heights that shut out the sinking sun.

"We have never seen anything like them before," admitted Dick, "and
I don't believe there are mountains back in Old Virginia, that our
fathers talk about so much, that can hold a candle to these rocky
heights."

"I know for one I'll be glad when we've crossed the backbone of the
ridge, and can see the sun in the late afternoon again," Roger went on
to say. "And after that we have the deserts to cross, if those Indian
tales turn out to be true."

"I feel more anxious about that stage of our journey than I do over the
dangers we may encounter in crossing the mountains," admitted Dick.
"They say men and horses die of thirst on those burning sands. I heard
Captain Lewis explaining how we would make skin bags in order to carry
an extra supply of water with us when we strike the sandy wastes."

So the talk, as was quite natural, was mostly of the possible terrors
of the journey ahead of them. Their imagination was given full swing
to picture many of the strange things mentioned by the roving Indians,
though in some cases these stories turned out to be untrue.

When men had gazed upon such remarkable wonders as the spouting hot
water geysers of the Yellowstone, they could be easily pardoned for
believing almost anything they heard. This vast country had never been
explored, and it seemed to be a veritable storehouse of strange things.
(Note 7.)

The eventful morning came, and seemed to be favorable for beginning
the ascent of the trail leading over the mountains by way of the pass.
Indian tribes had doubtless made it in crossing from one part of the
country to another. Wild animals, such as the vast herds of buffaloes,
also had occasion to cross the divide according to the stages of the
weather, and their hoofs had helped to make the overland trail.

It was a crisp morning in early September. In that high altitude the
air seemed wonderfully refreshing, and every one felt capable of the
task that now engaged their attention.

The Indian guide assured them that they need have no apprehensions
regarding the passage of the mountains, for he would lead them across
as his people had come on many an occasion.

By the time noon came they had mounted far enough to have a splendid
view of the plateau over which their journey for the last few days had
been made. It was well worth seeing, and many times did the travelers
glance backward over that extended vista, with longing thoughts
concerning the loved ones who, far away toward the east, awaited word
of their homecoming.

Roger had not forgotten what he had heard about those strange sheep
of the mountains, with their great curved horns. He was very eager to
discover whether the tales the Indians told could be true or not, and
many a look did he bend on the crags above them in hope of discovering
a herd of the bighorns.

It was about the middle of the afternoon, and in company with Dick he
was riding at some little distance ahead of the main company, when
Roger actually discovered the object he sought.

[Illustration: "'THERE! YOU CAN SEE HIM MOVE'"]

"Oh, look, Dick! Tell me! is that one of those sheep of the mountains
up there on that little patch of grass? There! you can see him move. He
sees us, but believes himself so secure that he doesn't bother to run
away."

"It must be what you say, Roger, for I can see the horns they told us
about, which curve backward from his head. There, another has come
around that spur of rock. I think there must be a small flock of them
up there."

"But just look at the horns on that buck, Dick; how I would like to be
able to get that pair to carry back with me."

"I'm afraid you'd find it a hard job to get within shooting distance of
them," Dick observed, "for you can see that they seem to be on a little
shelf where that grass grows, and from here I can discover no way of
reaching it, except to jump a chasm."

"Still, there must be some connection above us, Dick, and I've got a
good notion to try it, if only you'll take charge of my horse."

"Well, I can plainly see you will never be happy until you have made
your attempt," Dick told him, "and so I suppose I'll have to do as you
ask. But promise me to be careful where you trust yourself, Roger.
Remember, that you are no mountain goat, and that a fall from such a
height would mean your finish."

"Oh! I promise you to be as cautious as though my name were Dick
instead of Roger. All I want to find out is whether I can get to a
place where my gun will send a bullet fair and square. The moose fell
to you, Dick, and I think I ought to have my chance at these wonderful
jumpers of the mountains."

"While you're gone, Roger, I can stop here and watch what happens. If
you do shoot, and frighten the herd, it may be I can see them do some
of those wonderful things we've heard about, and not half believed. But
watch your steps, Roger."

Eager to discover if there was any way for him to get a shot at the
feeding sheep, Roger hastened away. The last Dick saw of him, he was
climbing the side of the mountain, stooping over as he went so that he
might not be seen by the game he intended to stalk.

For some reason the party had halted below, and did not come along
when Dick expected them. This might be fortunate for Roger, since it
would keep the sheep from being startled by the appearance of numerous
mounted men.

Watching the feeding animals, Dick could now count five in all. The
one with the largest horns he imagined to be the patriarch of the
flock; and he could easily guess that, if Roger found a chance to
shoot, his eyes would fasten upon this prize beast, for the amazing
curved horns had evidently fascinated the young hunter.

As time crept past Dick wondered how his cousin was progressing.
Surely, by now, he must have been able to get within easy range of the
unsuspicious sheep, and could pick out his quarry, if he really meant
to shoot. A good deal would depend on whether Roger believed he could
retrieve his game in case he shot it. If the poor beast had to lie on
the little, grass-covered, slanting plateau Dick did not believe his
chum would waste a load, merely for the sake of killing.

Once or twice he could see the owner of those massive horns raise his
head and sniff the air suspiciously. He even ran a few steps, as though
tempted to give the note of alarm that would send them all plunging
downward from the exposed point of pasturage; but, on second thought,
resisted the temptation.

It may have been sheer pride in his ability to shield his flock from
all harm that caused the buck to refrain from flight. Undoubtedly he
felt secure upon that plateau, and, even should any peril suddenly
threaten, no animal dared follow where he and his family could plunge
headlong.

It cost him dearly to indulge in any such proud boast. The two-legged
creature that was crawling up the face of the rocks possessed a reach
far in excess of any mountain lion or panther that ever tried to make a
meal of a tender ewe--that stick he carried could bridge a chasm when
it spat out flame and smoke, and carry death in its wake.

Dick was getting impatient for something to happen. If Roger had
learned that it was useless for him to try to get a shot, he should be
coming back by now, and not taking any chances.

Just then there came the report of a rifle. The echoes were flung back
and forth among the spurs of the mountains in a weird manner, but Dick
paid no attention to this fact, being too busy watching what took place
up on that elevated plateau.

He saw the patriarch of the flock give a leap into the air, and then
fall over, roll several times, and finally vanish from sight, possibly
falling into some crevice that was not visible to Dick's eyes.

But an even more remarkable thing was happening than the death of the
guardian of the flock. The remainder of the sheep showed symptoms of
alarm. A veritable panic seemed to have struck them, as, rushing pell
mell down the <DW72>, they, one after another, sprang boldly out into
space.

Holding his very breath with awe, Dick saw them strike upon their horns
on the rocks below, and, apparently uninjured, continue their headlong
flight. Then, after all, the amazing stories they had heard from the
Indians were true. Dick felt well repaid for having stood so long,
holding the horses and watching.

He believed he had heard Roger's shrill cry of triumph, though he saw
nothing of his chum, look as he might.

When a little time had passed Dick began to grow somewhat anxious. He
wondered if any harm could have come to Roger, or was the other trying
to get to the fallen sheep that had slipped into a crevice among the
rocks?

Finally Dick could stand it no longer. He decided to secure the two
horses somewhere and follow the route Roger had taken. Once up above,
he ought to be able to get some news of the missing one.

He was soon climbing up the face of the rocky mountain. It was no easy
task, and that Roger had accomplished it without alarming the quarry
was greatly to his credit. Still, there was no sign of him whom Dick
wanted to see.

Dick, with the eye of a born hunter, found it easy to figure out just
how Roger had proceeded. He did this by putting himself in the place of
the other, and arranging his own plan of campaign.

Now and then he came across signs that told him he was on the right
track. Once it was a bruised weed, which Roger must have crushed under
his foot; then again it would turn out to be a piece of loose stone
that he could see had only recently been cast adrift from its former
anchorage.

Little things like this, that might pass unnoticed by any one not a
woodsman, were to this pioneer boy as the printed words on a page to
one who attends school. They told him the story just as positively as
though with his own eyes he saw Roger creeping along over that very
spot, taking advantage of this protruding knob to place his foot upon
it, and using that stubby bush to draw himself up to some new hold
above.

By degrees Dick pushed on. He knew he must be getting very close to
where the other had been when he fired the fatal shot, and still he
saw no signs of Roger.

When he finally arrived at a place where further progress was
impossible, without disclosing himself to the eyes of the sheep,
provided they still grazed there on the grassy <DW72> beyond, Dick
knew he had reached the spot where his chum must have lain as he took
careful aim and pressed the trigger.

Then afterwards he must have pressed on, seeking to reach the bighorn,
fallen into the crevice.

Dick crept on.

He was beginning to feel a strange sense of impending evil. He feared
that something terrible had happened to Roger, and the possibility of
losing the chum whom he loved so well was enough to frighten him.

A minute later he came upon the gun. It had been carefully laid aside,
he could see, which, at least, was evidence that up to then Roger had
not found himself in any difficulty.

Looking beyond, Dick shuddered, for he had glimpsed what appeared to
be a terrible gulf, at the end of the <DW72> down which Roger must have
made his way. If he had in some manner lost his footing, and taken that
plunge, there was almost a certainty that it was all over with him.

When Dick discovered from the signs that some one had been scrambling
wildly over that smooth rock his heart misgave him; and it was with a
great fear that he carefully pressed on until he reached the brink of
the chasm.




CHAPTER XXIV

ON THE BURNING DESERT


NO sooner had Dick gained this point than he gave a whoop. It was a
sound that Roger would recognize if he were living, and capable of
giving back any sort of reply.

Dick's heart seemed to cease beating for the moment, such was the agony
of suspense that gripped his whole being. Then, when he caught a return
whoop, he knew his chum was at least alive.

"Where are you, Roger?" he called, unable to see anything of the boy,
although a little way down the sheer <DW72> he caught sight of the dead
sheep, just where it had fallen, after slipping over the edge of the
opposite grassy plateau.

"Down below here, making my way to the game," came the reassuring
answer.

"Are you badly hurt?" demanded Dick.

"Nothing that counts for much; and I'm bound to get my sheep, now I'm
in the hole. You can't really blame me, Dick."

"Never mind about that now," the one above told him; "but do you know
how you are ever going to get up out of that place again?"

"There's only one way that I can see, Dick--you must go back, and,
when the men come along, borrow that rope Jasper Williams always
carries with him. Perhaps he will come back with you, and help drag me
up--after I've saved the horns."

Knowing how determined Roger could be, once he had set his mind on a
thing, Dick did not attempt to argue with him, though he believed the
other was taking advantage of his position.

"Now I can see you, Roger, and, by the way you are advancing along the
bottom of the crevice, I reckon you must be all right. Yes, I will go
back and get the rope. Perhaps some of the men may want to try mutton
for their supper to-night, and, if so, they can haul the carcass of
your sheep up out of the hole."

"I'll try to be ready for you when you come back," called Roger, waving
his hunting-knife toward his chum; for by that time he had reached the
spot where his quarry lay, and was evidently in a big hurry to set to
work upon the pair of wonderful, massive horns.

Dick went back over the rocky trail until he reached the pass, where he
found the two horses just as he had left them. Voices close at hand
gave the welcome news that the other members of the exploring party
were approaching; and, even as he looked, the foremost came in sight
around a bend in the pass.

The men were greatly interested when they learned that Roger had
actually shot a specimen of the mountain sheep of which they had heard
the Indians talk. There was no lack of willing recruits when Dick once
more climbed the bank, and started toward the place where he had left
his chum.

Jasper Williams was one of the three men who insisted on accompanying
Dick, and of course he carried with him the long, tough rope which had
more than once on the journey proved to be worth its weight in silver,
as for instance, when it came to hauling the batteaux up some rapids in
the river.

When they reached the abrupt <DW72>, down which Roger had managed to
slip, one of the men came very near doing the same thing. Only for the
timely assistance given by Jasper Williams, they might have had two
comrades to haul up from the depths; and the man, being heavier, might
not have escaped so luckily as the boy.

Roger had worked fast, and succeeded in cutting loose the curving horns
that had given the old ram such a majestic appearance. He insisted
on sending these up the first time the rope came down. Then, at the
suggestion of Williams, he next attached the carcass of the sheep,
which was also safely hauled up.

Last of all Roger himself came up. He had some minor bruises as the
result of his fall, but he bravely stood the pain, and was proud of his
recent feat.

Great was the wonder and admiration of Captain Lewis and Captain
Clark when they set eyes on their first Rocky Mountain sheep. It was
extremely doubtful if any white man had, up to that time, ever beheld a
specimen of the _genus_. They could hardly blame Roger for wanting to
carry the weighty horns along with him, though doubting the wisdom of
such a course.

Dick, after considerable argument, finally convinced his cousin that it
would be very foolish to burden his horse after that fashion, when, in
crossing those desert lands, they had heard so much about, he would be
compelled to carry a supply of water.

"The captain assures me the chances are three to one we will come back
by this same pass over the mountains, and why not cache the horns
somewhere? Nothing is apt to hurt them, and, once on the way toward the
river, it will be easy to carry them with you. Then, when we again get
aboard the boats, your troubles will be over."

Roger was not altogether unreasonable. This sort of logic convinced him
that most of the others in the party would consider him foolish if he
persisted.

In the end the horns were placed securely in a niche in the rocks where
they were not likely to be disturbed by any prowling wild beast. The
spot was marked so it could be easily found again; and after this had
been done Roger felt relieved.

When they came to cook some of the sheep and test its worth as food no
one was wildly enthusiastic over it. In fact they pronounced it tough;
though admitting that a young specimen might prove altogether different.

Roger was even instructed to remember this in case he ever had another
opportunity to procure fresh mutton; and, having already secured the
desired horns, he readily promised to keep the advice in mind.

It happened, however, that another chance at the mountain sheep never
came his way. In two more days the expedition had crossed the great
divide, and found that, when the sun went down, they could see far away
toward a level horizon.

Remembering all the dismal tales related by the superstitious Indians
of sandy wastes where only a sparse vegetation grew, the men began to
feel a new anxiety. Just how far away the goal they were seeking still
lay not even the astute leader, Captain Lewis, could more than guess.
It might be a hundred miles, and perhaps many times that; for they had
by this time reached a point where they had nothing to depend on, save
the vague stories told by wandering Indians whom they happened to meet.

Some of these, however, mentioned a great body of salty water, the end
of which no human eye could reach, as lying far beyond the hot deserts.
There were also rivers spoken of, where the great fish swarmed in
countless millions, like the stars in the Milky Way overhead, or the
sands on the shore of the "Big Water."

Roger hugged these stories to his heart. He fancied that, once they
struck that river of the mighty game fish, he would be in his glory;
for, if there was one thing above all others Roger loved to do, it was
to fish.

The time finally came when they found themselves on the verge of the
desert of which they had heard so much. There could be no such thing
done as pass around the sandy waste, and their only course was to head
straight into the setting sun.

At the time they had with them an Indian whom Captain Lewis had
succored on the way. The fellow had fallen and injured his leg so that
he walked with the greatest difficulty, limping badly. He had lost his
bow, and being unable to provide himself with food, and far from his
home, he stood a good chance of starving to death.

They had fed him and looked after his injuries. The Indian professed to
be very grateful for such help, and for several days had clung to the
expedition, though able by then to walk fairly well.

He had assured them, through signs mostly, that he could serve them
as guide across the hot waste of sand, as he had himself crossed it
on many occasions. Captain Lewis considered this a fair return for
what he had done. Dick, however, did not altogether like the Indian's
looks. He thought he had a crafty way of watching everything, and that
his admiration for some of the horses might lead him to attempting a
theft, unless he were diligently watched.

Still, since the captain seemed to trust him, Dick did not think it was
his duty to say anything. It might look as though he were inclined to
be bold. At the same time, he made up his mind that, whenever it was
possible, he would keep an eye on the red man.

That night they filled with water the skin bags they had by degrees
provided for the purpose. A spring that gurgled close by the camp gave
them an unlimited supply of the necessary fluid; and they were warned
by the guide that it would be the last waterhole they would expect to
come across for many days.

In the morning the start was made, not without misgivings. No one could
say what terrible things lay before them, and the men cast wistful
glances back toward that cooling spring, as though they disliked to say
good-by to it.

That day was one which served to give them a new experience, for, up to
then, few of the explorers had ever known what it was to travel over a
sandy waste where the sun beat down with blistering effect, and the air
seemed fairly to quiver with the heat.

No living thing had they seen all day long, save perhaps a skulking
small animal, which the men at first thought to be a dog, though it
must have been a coyote; a few sage hens; and some gophers, that
burrowed in holes in the ground, from the entrances of which they
timidly watched the horses file slowly past.

In every direction lay cacti of various species and heights, while
thorny plants belonging to the same family, and bearing a small
pear-like fruit which the Indian told them was edible, lay upon the
ground.

They were glad when night came with its refreshing air. The camp was
made in the open desert, for there was not a tree of any size in sight.
And it seemed to the boys that, when the sun went down that evening, it
was several times as large as usual, as well as fiery red. It beckoned
them on just as before, since they knew well that _somewhere_, beyond
the desert, the sun must be setting behind the vast ocean which they
all aspired to see.

Another like day followed, and all of them began to suffer more or less
on account of the heat, and the sand glare, which affected their eyes.
On account of this, it was suggested that hereafter they rest during
the hottest part of each day, and continue their journey as far into
the night as the horses could stand it.

They seemed to be thirsty most of the time, and the horses, too, needed
many a refreshing drink in order to continue their labors. More than
one uneasy glance was cast toward the supply of the precious fluid. If
the skin sacks should spring a leak the wanderers must face a desperate
condition, indeed.

So they settled down for the second night upon the open desert. Each
day would be very much like another, unless they were unfortunate
enough to experience one of those dreaded sand storms they had heard
about, the terrors of which they could now easily imagine.

The guide, however, had spoken cheering words in his own tongue, and,
by holding up two fingers of his hand, gave them to understand they
were by this time half-way across the desert. If they could stand this
for two more days there was hope that the worst would be over.

All of them were very tired after that long day's traveling, and, since
no danger could come upon them out on the arid waste, sentries were
dispensed with. Dick sat up longer than the rest, thinking he ought to
keep an eye on the dusky guide; but the Indian appeared to be soundly
sleeping, and weariness finally compelled the boy to succumb.

The morning came and brought with it a very disagreeable surprise. At
some time during the night the sorely tempted Indian guide, forgetting
his obligations to Captain Lewis, had taken an extra horse they
had along and started on the back trail; not only that, but he had
also carried off considerable of their supply of water, leaving the
adventurers face to face with a terrible calamity.




CHAPTER XXV

THE OASIS


"I'M sorry now I allowed myself to go to sleep at all," said Dick, as
he heard what had happened.

This was the first Roger knew of his suspicions, for Dick had felt that
it was hardly worth while taking his chum into his confidence.

"Do you mean you didn't like the way that Indian acted, and that you
meant to stay awake to keep an eye on him?" demanded Roger.

"I did at first, but I was very tired, and he seemed to be sound
asleep; so I gave it up. Perhaps, if I had kept awake for just another
half hour, I might have caught him in the act."

All of them were feeling depressed over the incident. It was not so
much the horse they regretted, though the animal might prove valuable
to them later on; but having their supply of drinking water cut short
told heavily.

They started on with heavy hearts, and the future looked dismal,
indeed. Still, it was not the nature of such a man as Captain Lewis to
despair when, after all, there might be no occasion for trouble. His
good nature presently infected the remainder of the party, and hope
again found lodgment in their hearts.

By being careful, the water could easily be made to cover two days, and
by that time it was believed they would have found a fresh supply.

It had been only recently that the two boys had learned certain facts
that gave them considerable cause for worry. One of the trappers, who
had been out hunting just before the caravan reached the foot of the
mountains, had discovered two men who wore the garb of whites.

They were armed with guns and had horses in the bargain. He had not
been able to creep close enough to hear anything they said, but, from
the description which he gave of the strangers, both Dick and Roger
felt sure they knew who they must be.

The one with the black hair and beard was the vindictive French trader,
Francois Lascelles; while his companion could be no other than the
treacherous Andrew Waller, who had been kicked out of the camp when his
duplicity became known.

The two rascals had evidently joined forces, and continued to follow
after the explorers, bent on having a sweet revenge for the indignities
that had been visited upon their heads, though rightly, by Captain
Lewis.

Alexis, the grown son of Lascelles, must have returned to civilization,
since he had not been seen with his father. The knowledge that these
evil men were bent on following them across mountain and plain, and
determined on punishing the boys because their plans had been ruined,
was something calculated to take away much of the pleasure Dick and
Roger would otherwise have enjoyed.

From time to time their thoughts naturally went out toward Lascelles
and his unscrupulous ally. They often wondered whether the two men had
actually crossed the mountain range, and if they would even attempt the
passage of this burning desert.

Roger in particular was indignant over the prospect of such a thing.

"It would serve them right," he declared, as he talked matters over
with Dick, "if they lost their way out here on the desert, and paid the
penalty with their miserable lives. I wish that would happen to them,
even if it does sound wicked; but of what use are they in the world,
except to bring trouble to others who never tried to harm them in the
beginning?"

"And the chances are," pursued Dick, frowning, "that, after we do get
across this sandy stretch, if they follow us, it will be to spread some
of the same lies about our being the sons of the Great White Father at
Washington. They plan to have the Indians seize us, and hold us for the
ransom that would never come. It might mean we would be kept all our
lives among the Indians, and never see our families any more."

"All I can say, Dick, is that I'll be a happy boy when we get across
this terrible desert. When we happen on the white bones of animals that
have perished here, sticking out of the sand, they make me think of
finger posts pointing to our finish. To tell you the honest truth, I
don't think I have ever shivered before when burning up with fever; but
it's the prospect that does it."

"Oh! there's no use feeling that way," Dick assured him, seeing that
really the other was very much depressed in his spirits; "we are going
to pull out of this scrape, just as we always do. Before a great while
things will look cheery again, take my word for it."

"If only there was any chance to find game I wouldn't feel so bad,"
complained Roger, touching his gun, which was fastened behind his
saddle.

"Well, there is a little patch of scrub trees beyond us right now," his
comrade told him. "Suppose we ride ahead and see if we are lucky enough
to find a stray antelope there. Sometimes there is moisture in one of
those oasis, and some grass manages to grow. It can do no harm, and
will serve to take our minds off a disagreeable subject."

Roger began to show a little animation at that. Anything touching on
hunting was apt to engage his attention, and raise his spirits.

"I'm with you, Dick, every time!" he hastened to exclaim; "and, if we
could only strike a deer, even one of those little antelopes you spoke
of, it would be worth while. Our fresh meat has given out, but we could
find plenty of wood to make a fire if we needed it. That sun, though,
is hot enough to cook meat by itself, I think."

After mentioning their plan to Captain Clark, who was nearby, the two
lads urged their horses to increase their slow pace. This the jaded
animals were not much inclined to do, but the will of their masters
prevailed, and they left the plodding caravan behind.

Dick suggested that they divide their forces, in order to approach
the patch of scrubby-looking dwarf trees from two sides. This was the
policy of an experienced hunter. In case there happened to be anything
worth shooting among the trees, the hunters stood a double chance of
getting a shot, no matter which way the deer ran.

Dick did not entertain much hope of meeting with success. From the look
of the miserable timber he felt it was hardly probable that grass was
growing in its midst, or that a deer should have been attracted by the
promise of food. Still, it would not do to neglect any precaution; and,
as he rode forward, he held his gun ready in his hand, meaning to jump
to the ground before firing, so as to be more certain in his aim.

When he had reason to believe that Roger must have come up on the
opposite side of the patch of trees, Dick felt that it was time to turn
his horse's head, and ride directly toward his goal.

Just then he caught some sort of movement amidst the trees, though
he could not tell the nature of it. Some living creature must have
sought refuge there, though it might after all prove to be only a lone
buzzard, pecking at a bone, or perhaps one of those larger birds which
Captain Lewis had told them were vultures.

He kept watching the spot as his horse advanced. The animal snorted
once or twice, which Dick considered a sign worth noticing, for it
might mean that some ferocious beast lay concealed on the border of the
oasis.

A moment afterwards Dick gave vent to a grunt of disgust. After all, it
turned out to be a sneaking wolf of that small species which they had
found to be as cowardly as it was ugly. Yes, now he had a good glimpse
of the animal, running along the edge of the timber, and evidently
expecting to make off in the other direction.

Dick hoped Roger would not be tempted to waste a shot on the cowardly
beast, for its death could not be of the least advantage to them. It's
presence there settled the last lingering hope he had felt concerning
the finding of game. No antelope was apt to stay long when one of those
hungry coyotes came around, Dick imagined.

He rode slowly on. The patch of trees was really larger than he had
imagined, and, while about it, Dick felt he should make doubly sure.
Perhaps they might run on a small spring there in the oasis, though the
appearance of things did not inspire him with much confidence.

"It would be even better than finding game, if we did come across a
water hole," he was telling himself as he pushed on.

He heard Roger give a loud yell on the other side of the oasis.
Evidently he had just discovered the skulking animal and was shouting
to start him in full flight across the sandy waste. But he did not
shoot, for which Dick was glad.

Now, having arrived at the border of the scrubby trees, Dick jumped
down and fastened his horse to a convenient branch. It was his
intention to enter the patch of timber on foot, as Roger was doubtless
doing from the other side. They could scour the whole of it in a brief
time, and find out whether so much as a cup of water was to be obtained.

He could hear Roger advancing opposite to him, and knew they would
soon meet. Even then he caught sight of the other moving along, though
evidently hopeless of finding anything in the shape of game.

Dick had just opened his mouth to say something when he was thrilled
to hear a dreadful, rattling sound that he knew only too well. At the
same time Roger sprang hastily back, and uttered a loud cry of alarm.




CHAPTER XXVI

AMONG THE NEZ PERCES


"LOOK out, Dick, there are rattlesnakes all around here. I can see
three of them right in front of you! Get back, Dick, get back, I tell
you!"

Dick hastened to comply, for by that time he also had detected the
presence of the venomous reptiles. They seemed to be of a small
species, such as can be found on the plains of the entire West, but
their stroke carries just as sure death as though the snakes were twice
the size.

The boys had often come across them of late, mostly near the colonies
of gophers, for the two seemed to be able to dwell together in harmony,
though possibly the snakes made an occasional meal from some of the
puppies.

Roger had already laid aside his gun, and picking up a long stick, he
commenced to belabor some of the coiled snakes.

"Think you own the earth do you?" Roger was saying, as he plied his
stick with vigor, and knocked first one snake and then another into a
wriggling mass. "Well, I want to show you that others besides you have
a right to breathe, and walk where they please. That makes the fifth
one I've smashed, Dick. Did you ever see such a nest of the 'varmints,'
as Jasper Williams would call them?"

Roger evidently meant to keep on just as long as there was a single one
of the ugly, scaly creatures in sight. He certainly had more than his
share of antipathy toward all reptiles, for he never let an opportunity
to kill one escape him.

When he could no longer find anything to hit, Roger consented to drop
the stick, secure his rifle, and prepare to leave the scrubby timber.
They could find nothing in the way of water, though there must have
been something of the sort underground to have allowed those ugly dwarf
trees to grow in the first place.

"There goes the silly, little wolf scurrying off," said Roger as they
mounted once more, Dick having brought his horse through the patch
of woods. "He must think we set great store by his dingy hide, and
would take after him. But I'm disappointed because we failed to get an
antelope."

"Better luck next time, Roger," his comrade told him; for nothing
seemed to crush the spirits of this sanguine lad.

The third day passed, and, as the blazing sun sank again beyond the
glittering horizon, none of them, even by shading his eyes with his
hands, could see any sign to proclaim that they were drawing near the
end of the desert.

It was not a very cheerful party that sat around on blankets that night
and exchanged ideas concerning their prospects of pulling through these
difficulties. The horses were showing signs of the hard usage to which
they had been put. Lack of forage made them hungry all the time, since
the small amount of hay that could be carried was almost gone.

With the morning they were again on the way, the sun at their backs.
Noon found them resting, though the journey was resumed later on.
When once more the sun went down its glow showed them trees in the
near distance, the presence of which they had not been able to detect
before, on account of the shimmer of the sun's torrid rays on the
shining sand.

It was the consensus of opinion among the men that they were now close
to the western extremity of the desert, and they decided to keep on
moving far into that night if necessary, in order to reach the timber
that promised them water, and shelter from the terrible sun.

Before midnight they arrived at the trees and had hardly made their way
among them when some of the weary men sank to the ground, unable to
continue further. Camp was made on the spot, and the remainder of the
night was spent in refreshing slumber.

While the desert had been left behind, they now had a new source of
trouble. Water they could obtain as often as they needed it, but their
food supplies had fallen very low, nor were the hunters able to find
game, though they searched early and late for signs of deer or bear;
anything, in fact, that could be eaten.

"If this sort of thing keeps on," Roger grumbled, when he and Dick
were returning from an unsuccessful search for game, "there's only one
resort left to us, and that is to feed on horse flesh. I'd hate to come
to it; but, rather than starve to death, I believe I'd try it."

Dick laughed at hearing this confession.

"And yet, when we were among the Sioux," he remarked merrily, "you
threw up your hands in horror at the thought of eating baked dog, which
the Indians esteem a great delicacy, so that they seldom have it except
when they want to make a great feast. How do you feel about that now,
Roger?"

"To be honest with you, Dick, I've changed my mind somehow. Those were
days when we always had plenty to eat; but now the rations have become
so scanty that we feel half starved most of the time. Yes, I believe
that if I was asked to sit down to a feast of baked dog, I'd accept,
and with thanks."

"Well, there's nothing like hunger to serve as sauce at a meal,"
laughed Dick. "And, when I tell them at home how you were cured of some
of your nice notions about the kind of food you long for, they will
think it quite a joke."

"We're in a bad fix as it goes," resumed Roger; "with some of the men
half sick from their sufferings on this long trip, little to eat in
camp, and a slim prospect of getting anything from now on. Perhaps,
after coming so far, none of us will live to see that wonderful ocean."

"Oh! yes we shall, never fear," Dick assured him. "But stop and look
ahead. What have we run up against now, I wonder. It looks like an
Indian family on the move."

"You are right, Dick," cried Roger. "They have a horse, and two poles
fastened so that the other ends drag on the ground. On that they have
hides, and I can see a squaw and a papoose. Suppose we try and see if
we can make ourselves understood?"

"I mean to," replied the other, quickly. "The warrior may be able to
direct us to the river we are seeking, down which we hope to float
until we come to the sea itself."

They walked nearer the Indians, who by this time had discovered their
presence, and were undoubtedly amazed to see people with white skins in
that part of the country.

"We have never, up to now, come in contact with any Indians dressed as
that fellow is," remarked Dick, as he held up his hand with the palm
toward the woman, to indicate that their intentions were friendly; for
that seems to be a sign universally understood among all the savage
peoples of the world.

"It may be they belong to the Nez Perces tribe, and the man is a brave,
because he wears the bear claws about his neck," (Note 8) suggested
Roger; "I heard Captain Clark speaking about them only yesterday, and
saying we must soon strike their hunting grounds, for he had learned
about them from other tribes."

As the two boys joined the Indians they saw that the fat squaw had a
small papoose in her arms. Dick instantly discovered that the child
was suffering in some way, possibly from cramps in its little stomach.
According to the native custom nothing would be done to relieve the
pain, that is in the way of medicine. When they reached their village
the old medicine man would doubtless be called in to conduct his
eccentric dances around the writhing child, to rattle his hollow gourds
that contained small stones, and to do everything in his power to
frighten off the evil spirit that was believed to be tormenting the
papoose.

Dick tried to begin a conversation with the brave. As he could depend
only on gestures it was rather difficult; but, by this time, both boys
were becoming more or less expert in this sort of thing. Presently
he managed to convince the brave that he was a medicine man after a
fashion, and would be glad to try to relieve the sufferings of the
papoose.

When the squaw understood this from what her man told her, she looked
dubious. Evidently her faith had made her believe that the more
fantastic the costume of the healer, the better chance there would be
of success; and how then could this boy with the white skin frighten
away the evil spirit when he made no attempt to disguise himself?

Both brave and squaw looked anxiously on as Dick took out a little case
from his pocket and extracted a tiny bottle. It was only camphor that
the phial contained, but Dick felt positive it would work wonders, if
only he could get the child to swallow a dose.

This was finally managed with the help of the squaw. Since they had
consented to allow the "paleface wizard" to try to charm the evil
spirit out of the papoose, she meant that the experiment should be
carried out regardless of the child's whims; and so with her finger she
thrust the medicine down the little one's throat.

Dick then went on to talk with his fingers. He was trying to find out
whether the village of the brave was nearby, and finally succeeded in
learning they would come upon it in one day's walk, or the sweep of the
sun from the east to the west.

From what the other said in his native fashion Dick was not quite sure
about its position. He cut a piece of bark from a tree and held it out
to the Nez Perces brave, together with a nail, showing him how to mark
upon the smooth surface.

Apparently the Indian was shrewd enough to grasp his meaning, for he
immediately commenced to make crude figures. Roger watched his efforts
with growing eagerness.

"I do believe he's caught what you've been trying to say to him, Dick!"
he exclaimed in glee. "See there now! he's gone and made a lot of
cone-shaped things that I'm sure must stand for wigwams. That's meant
for his village; and now he's making a wriggly line past it. Do you
think that can stand for a river?"

"No question but that it does, Roger. There, now he makes a broader
line of the same kind, which must mean a big river that the first one
flows into."

"Watch him now, Dick; what does he mean by all that curly stuff? To me
it looks like waves rolling up onto the beach, just as we've seen them
at that lake near which we passed the winter on the Yellowstone."

"I really believe he means that the broad river empties into the sea!"
announced Dick, at which Roger could hardly repress his feelings of
exultation.

"Hurrah!" he cried, "we have struck something worth while at last, if
only we can coax this brave to go to camp with us. And Dick, your
medicine has worked wonders already, for the papoose seems to be
kicking no longer. I guess the cramps have been settled."

The squaw beamed on them now. She was evidently awed by the wonderful
success of the "paleface medicine man," who found no necessity for
indulging in fantastic dances and such things, but chased the evil
spirit out by simply sending a message down the child's throat that he
must vacate!

Again Dick endeavored to tell the brave that, if they would accompany
the boys to where they had companions, all of them on the following
day would go to the Nez Perces village with the Indians, and enjoy the
hospitality of the red men.

It ended in the others accepting, so that, half an hour later, they
reached the camp, where their coming created no end of excitement; for
every one expected it would soon lead to great things.

If the boys had failed to secure any game in this, their last hunt,
at least they had accomplished what was better; for, with the new
prospects ahead of them, it began to look as though their troubles
might all be in the past.

Captain Lewis spent almost two hours in sign talk with the Indian that
evening, after they had smoked the peace pipe between them. Together
with what he was able to pick up, and the crude map fashioned by the
brave on the smooth bark, he felt convinced that they would soon arrive
at a river that eventually emptied into the great ocean which they had
traveled thousands of miles to gaze upon.

No longer were the weary explorers given over to hopelessness, as had
begun to be the case of late. The future began to assume a rosy hue,
and both boys felt certain the success that had been dangling before
them as a tempting bait all these long months was about to become a
certainty.

When morning came they once more set forth, but now laughter was the
rule instead of silence and long faces. The brave and his squaw had by
degrees overcome their feeling of awe, and were quite friendly with the
men.

"I think," said Dick to Roger, as they rode slowly on, "I heard him
trying to explain to the captain that his chief and most of the men in
the village would be away at this time, for they expected to start on a
big hunt, to lay in a store of jerked meat for the winter season. But
that will not make any difference. He says his people will welcome us,
especially after they know what a great medicine man is coming."

At that both boys laughed aloud.

"If you are wise," said Roger, "you will get ready to do a big
business, because every old squaw that has an aching tooth will call
upon you to chase the demon of pain away."

"Oh! very well," replied Dick, carrying his honors easily, "I'll draw
out the aching molars, and in that way bring freedom from pain. But all
of us will be glad to rest for a while in the Nez Perces village."

"Yes," added Roger. "And, moreover, we hope they will be free with
their food, because our stock has by this time got down to nearly
nothing. For once I think I could enjoy some Indian cooking."

"Even if it has to be a feast of baked dog!" added Dick, at which the
other made a grimace, though he immediately replied:

"Yes, even that, if the rest of you try it. I don't hold myself to
be any better than my comrades, and what they can stand I ought to.
Perhaps, who knows, all of us may yet take a great liking for the dish.
The first man who ever swallowed a raw oyster must have had a strong
stomach, I should say."

Late that afternoon they came upon the Nez Perces village, which they
found located upon quite a noble river. This stream the explorers
immediately called the Lewis River in honor of their intrepid leader.
Sad to say in later years this well-earned name was changed to that of
Snake River, showing what short memories those who came after must have
had, in forgetting how much they were indebted to Captain Meriwether
Lewis.




CHAPTER XXVII

FROM SADDLE TO CANOE AGAIN


IT was soon planned that a short stop should be made here, in order to
recuperate to some extent after their recent strenuous experiences. A
number of the men had become ill through long exposure to the burning
sun, and the lack of proper food. Captain Lewis hoped to have them in
good shape presently, so that they could start forth upon the last dash
for the Pacific Coast.

Besides, the chief being absent, there was really no one of authority
in the Nez Perces village with whom to deal; and just then the
explorers wished to make a covenant, or bargain.

From now on they could make much better use of boats than of horses,
and it was hoped to effect an arrangement with the Nez Perces chieftain
to care for the animals they owned through the coming winter. Then,
the adventurers hoped to borrow canoes and to finish the long journey
by the water. When, in the spring, they returned that way, they could
change back, and reward the friendly Indians for taking care of the
horses, which would, of course, be needed again in crossing to the
mountains.

Several pleasant days in September passed away, while the members of
the expedition waxed hale and hearty again. They had plenty to eat, and
even made out to secure an amount of food from the Indians to last them
for some time ahead, in case game proved to be scarce.

No one anticipated such a thing, however, because from all reports they
judged there was great hunting along the lower river that emptied into
the sea; Then there was the multitude of splendid fishes, the flesh of
which they were told resembled that of the mountain trout.

These the travelers had already classified as salmon, because Captain
Lewis had seen that noble game fish caught in Maine and Canada, where
it came in fresh from the ocean to spawn in the headwaters of the
rivers.

Many were the stories the Nez Perces told, in their sign language
mostly, about the Indians who frequented the lower reaches of this
broad river, where the "shining fish" swarmed at times so that no man
could count their number, which was like the grains of sand on the
beach.

As near as the boys could make out these natives, from some peculiarity
connected with their person, were known far and wide as the Flat Heads.
They seemed to be of an exceedingly warlike disposition, and great
hunters, as well as persistent fishermen.

Their method of taking the salmon was with a spear, and in the season
an adept could daily throw up on the bank a glittering pile of the big
fish calculated, when dried after a manner in vogue among them, to last
his lodge all winter.

Many were the interesting things the boys learned when they found a
means of talking with the peaceful Nez Perces. The days passed almost
too quickly for even Roger, impatient as he was to set eyes on the goal
of their hopes.

And, just as had been anticipated, the fame of Dick as a "big medicine"
spread through all the skin lodges of the tribe. People even came from
other settlements to consult the "wonder boy," who could chase the
evil spirits out of a suffering body by simply sending down a pill to
wrestle with the monster.

Dick had his hands full, much to the amusement of his cousin. He did
not shirk his duty, though careful not to utterly exhaust his precious
store of drugs, compounded for the most part by his mother's own hands.

The head chief finally returned, and with him the band of warriors who
had been on the grand hunt. They brought back with them a large store
of fresh meat, which the squaws immediately set to work to dry after
their crude fashion, thus converting it into "pemmican," black, tough
stuff which made the boys shudder to look at, but which could sustain
the human frame wonderfully.

Success having attended the annual hunt, the chief was in a
particularly good humor. He felt that the coming of these "palefaces"
must have had something to do with the bountiful supply of game he and
his warriors had come across.

Besides, the whites intended going down into the country of the dreaded
Flat Heads, and their influence might be exerted to make peace between
those Indians and the Nez Perces. So a feast was spread, at which all
of the whites had the pleasure of tasting baked dog, which they agreed
was fair eating, though none of them came back for a second helping.

The chief readily entered into a covenant whereby, for a certain
consideration, he agreed to care for the horses of the whites until
they came up the river in the spring, upon which the animals were to be
returned to their owners.

Besides this, canoes were loaned to the "palefaces," boats made of
skin, and a little insecure, but nevertheless serviceable for the
purposes of the explorers.

"Do you think the chief will keep his word about the horses, Dick?"
asked Roger, after they had heard of the arrangement between the two
captains and the head men of the tribe, after passing the pipe solemnly
around the circle at the council fire.

"Yes, I feel sure he will," Dick replied. "I like his looks, and in
nearly every case the word of an Indian, once given, is better than the
bond of many white men."

"But you remember how that false guide deceived us in the desert, and
ran away with one of our horses?" objected Roger.

"There never was a rule that did not have an exception," Roger was
told. "Now and then you may find a red man who dishonors his word, but
in the main they would sooner be torn to pieces than betray a trust. We
shall see our horses when we come back this way, Roger, if we are so
lucky as to be able to return."

"Then there was that news we had about those two white men who were
seen by a Nez Perces hunter far down the river," said Roger, uneasily.
"They were in a canoe, and had evidently passed the village in the
nighttime, unseen. At the time the Nez Perces saw them they were
dickering with some of the Flat Heads, as though meaning to make allies
of those fighters."

"It sounds as if we might be in for another lot of trouble, before we
reach the end of our voyage," admitted Dick.

"Then you agree with me, Dick, that those two men must be our bitter
foes, Francois Lascelles and Andrew Waller?"

"Yes, I'm sorry to say they must be those men and no others. But,
Roger, something seems to tell me that we may not be bothered much
longer by their dark plotting. They are apt to overdo the matter, and
perhaps be slain by the very power they set in motion to destroy us."

"You mean the fighting Flat Heads may turn on them, sooner or later; is
that it, Dick?" asked Roger, eagerly.

"That is a fate which has overtaken many such schemers," came the
answer. "Unscrupulous men often start fires that, in the end, consume
them. My father has told me that many a time. We have been preserved
through all our adventures, and for one I can face the future without
flinching. I do not believe it will be our fate to die at the hands of
such rascals as those men are."

It was on the following day after this talk between the two chums that,
all preparations having been completed, the little party embarked for
the last lap of their long trip, which in the case of Captain Lewis
meant from coast to coast.

The friendly Nez Perces gave them a good send-off. There were even some
whoops, and waving of hands, after the whites had pushed off from the
shore.

Perhaps of all the party Dick would be most missed. His numerous
patients would mourn the absence of the "big medicine," should there
be a return of their maladies later on. Perhaps they feared that the
Evil Spirit might venture to take double toll on account of the serious
setback received during the presence in their midst of the "wonder
doctor."

"And one thing sure," Roger told his cousin, as they worked their
paddles industriously to keep ahead of the other boats, "you will have
to get to work and make up a new stock of medicine after the manner
you've seen your mother do it; for, when we come back this way in the
spring, if we ever do, there'll be a crop of ailments waiting for you
to take care of."

Dick only laughed good-naturedly.

"I was thinking about that myself," he stated; "and I believe I could
do it, provided we can find the same kind of herbs growing out here.
But it certainly feels good to me to be in a boat again, after all that
hard work riding a horse across a hot desert."

Roger felt the same way, for the boys were much more at home with a
paddle in their hands than in the saddle. Brought up on the bank of the
Missouri, they had early become adepts on and in the water, and they
spent much of their time fishing, in order to supply the families with
the food that was needed.

That night they made camp on the bank of the Lewis. They were
surrounded by the great trees that have since then made Oregon and
Washington forests famous; and all this was so vastly different from
their recent experiences amidst desert sands that it was no wonder
every one's spirits were buoyant.

Of course the boys wanted to take a little turn around the camp before
night set in, hoping to come across some game. This they could easily
do because, at the time, they had nothing to do with getting supper
ready, as it was not their turn to serve as cooks.

Once again success came their way, for they succeeded in starting a
buck, and, although it took a double shot to bring the fleet animal
down, Dick proved equal to the occasion, after Roger's bullet seemed to
be wasted.

This circumstance seemed to annoy the latter very much, for he was
jealous of his well-earned reputation as a marksman. It did not
surprise Dick, then, when the other's first move upon reaching the
fallen buck was to examine eagerly the quarry.

"I thought it was queer if I missed him entirely," declared Roger,
with a ring of triumph in his voice; "you can see where my bullet
passed through his body, but, as luck would have it, no vital part was
touched. I'm glad you managed to finish him, Dick."

"Yes, so am I for several reasons," remarked the other; "in the first
place we need the meat. Then again, it would be too bad for him to run
for miles and in the end drop, and that wound you gave him would have
proved fatal finally."

Of course the party rejoiced to see a supply of meat come in. They knew
they could depend on the boys to procure it if there chanced to be any
game in the vicinity; and when they heard the double shot more than one
of the men licked his lips in full expectation of a treat.

It is a good thing to have a reputation for accomplishing things, for
there are times when it spurs the possessor on, in order that he may
not lose caste with his admirers.

Roger was not fully satisfied with the shooting of the buck. His
fishing instinct had been aroused by the tales he had heard concerning
the great finny prizes to be had in these rivers that ran down to the
sea, and he longed to be able to capture his first prize in the shape
of a salmon.

So, immediately after supper, he got his line in readiness, and set
it in hope of a strike. Many times during the evening he left the
vicinity of the campfire, where the men were sitting at their ease and
exchanging stories, to make an eager investigation of his line.

Roger was, however, doomed to disappointment that night. Either the
salmon did not run so far from the sea at this time of the year, or
else his bait had not proven satisfactory. In time, no doubt, he would
learn better; or he could possibly find a chance to make use of the
spear he had secured from a Nez Perces brave, and which was used for
striking the great fish as they passed through some narrow estuary of
the river, running between the rocks.




CHAPTER XXVIII

AT THE FALLS OF THE COLUMBIA


"I HOPE you don't think I'm discouraged, Dick, because so far no fish
has come near my hook?" remarked Roger, when the time came to wrap
their blankets around them and seek rest.

"Oh! I know you too well to believe that," replied the other. "From now
on I expect to see you doing your best to land a prize. Sooner or later
success is bound to come, Roger."

"I know it," was the confident way the other spoke; "because I've
always made it my business to stick to the old motto, 'If at first you
don't succeed, try, try again.' And even if the fish refuse to look at
my bait I've got that spear, you remember. One of these days I'll find
a chance to launch it, and bring up a salmon worth looking at."

Dick always liked to hear Roger talk that way. It was his constancy
that in the past had won him many a battle; for Roger had a stubborn
streak in his nature and would come back again and again to make new
attempts. As the water by everlasting dripping will wear away a stone,
so this "never-say-die" spirit often won out in the end.

Nothing disturbed the slumbers of the travelers during that first night
upon the bank of the Lewis River. They started again early in the
morning, for, now that the end of their journey was almost in sight, a
fever began to possess them to cover the ground as rapidly as possible.

New sights opened up to their gaze with every mile of progress made.
The paddles dipped into the clear water, and the sunlight, falling on
the drops dripping from the blades, made each one resemble a glittering
diamond.

After their life spent on the muddy Missouri it was a great pleasure
to Dick and Roger to find themselves upon a stream where they could in
places look down for many feet, and see the stones on the bottom, so
transparent was the water.

As they floated along, waiting for the others to catch up with them,
the boys' favorite amusement was to lie still, and, looking over the
gunnel of their hide canoe, watch the small fishes darting to and fro;
or thrust a paddle at some clumsy turtle that had come up to see what
sort of object this floating log could be.

It was not always as pleasant as this, however, for one day they had a
downpour of rain that caused them to make hurriedly for the shore, and
get their tents up with as little delay as possible.

The storm continued all of the following day, and an unusual amount of
rain for that time of year descended. After that the water was not so
clear as before, the boys noticed. There were also places where they
discovered landslides had occurred, sections of the bank having slipped
into the rising river.

"It's a good thing we picked out a camp site where the ground was
firm," Roger observed, as they passed such a slide on the next day, and
saw what a terrible thing it had been.

Dick was ready to agree with what his companion said. He shrugged his
broad shoulders and shook his head.

"It would have proved a bad job for us, I take it, Roger, if we had
been camping on this spot. Think of having the ground slip from under
you while you sleep; and of awaking to find yourself struggling in the
river. Yes, we were lucky to be on firm ground while the rain lasted."

"The days keep passing along," mused Roger, "and so far I haven't been
able to take a single salmon. And only this morning I'm sure I saw one
jump out of the water after some sort of insect. If only I knew what
kind of fly it was I might be able to coax one of the big fish to come
to time."

"It is near the end of October, too," Dick remarked, "and any day now
Captain Lewis says he expects that we must reach the lower river."

"And, after that, all we have to do is to let the swift current carry
us along to the sea; eh, Dick?"

"Our only remaining danger will come from the Flat Head Indians who
live along the banks of the broad river. Then we must remember, you
know, Roger, that there is a great fall somewhere below us. The Nez
Perces Indians told us they make a noise like thunder when the water is
high, as it is after so much rain."

"Of course we must keep on the watch for the fall, Dick; I give you my
word for it, I have no desire to be carried over the brink in one of
these frail little hide canoes. It would be smashed on the rocks below,
and, as for us, we might not know what had happened."

"Just watch that fish hawk hovering over that place in the river,
meaning to snatch up his dinner when he gets ready. There's the
champion fisher for you, Roger. If that bird could only talk he could
tell you all about the habits of these wary salmon that so far you
haven't succeeded in catching."

"There he goes!" cried Roger, excitedly. "Oh! what a splash he made!
And, Dick, look at him trying to get up again! It's all he can do to
rise, beating his wings like a crazy thing. See the fish the fellow has
fastened his claws on, Dick. There goes a salmon, I do believe, the
very first we've seen!"

The big fish hawk was indeed having a hard battle trying to fly with
such a large fish in its talons. It fluttered its wings, and still
could not manage to get more than twenty feet above the water.

As it turned toward the bank, doubtless meaning that, if compelled to
release its hold on the glittering prize, the fish should fall upon
land where it could be eaten at leisure, Roger gave vent to another
exclamation.

"When it gets off the river I'm going to shout, and see if I can
frighten the hawk into letting that fish drop," he observed, eagerly.

"I'll join with you, then," agreed his chum.

A few seconds later, Roger made a signal with his paddle at which
both of them gave forth a startling yell. Surely enough, the sudden
discordant sound startled the fish hawk, and it immediately let its
prize go.

"There, it landed on the bank!" cried Roger. "Quick! let's paddle
ashore before it flops back into the river again. Oh! my first salmon
seems to be coming to me from the air after all!"

Reaching the bank, Roger sprang ashore, and presently came back,
carrying his capture by inserting a finger in the gill. It was indeed a
salmon, though only of a comparatively few pounds weight, and nothing
compared to myriads they were fated to see later on.

"Enough to make a supper for both the captains, and ourselves in the
bargain!" explained the triumphant Roger. "And I want to say that never
before did I pull in a fish from the air. That's a new way of doing it,
Dick. I'll never see an industrious fish hawk after this but that I'll
think of what happened to-day."

"If you hadn't secured the fish some robber eagle might," declared
Dick. "Many a time have I sat and watched one of those bald-headed
pirates, perched on a dead limb of a tree, too lazy to pounce down and
get a dinner for himself, and only waiting until a hawk flew off with
its prize, when, after the other bird, would start the eagle, and ten
times out of eleven he was bound to play the robber game."

"Yes," added Roger, "I've seen the poor hawk mount high in the air,
trying to escape; but with the eagle in hot pursuit. In the end the
fish would drop, and the eagle follow after it, snatching his dinner
from the air long before it could strike the earth; just as I can let a
stone fall, and then overtake it with my hand before it lands."

It was on the second day after this incident that the boys, who were
ahead of the others, were heard giving glad yells. The secret of all
this joy was soon made manifest, for they had really arrived at the
junction of the Lewis with the Columbia, as they immediately called the
majestic stream that, with a swift current, ran to the west, and flowed
out into the sea.

All their hopes, so long delayed, seemed now on the eve of realization;
and there were no despondent hearts in the camp when night again found
them.

It was with satisfaction that they looked out upon the noble stream,
in the belief that the confidence which President Jefferson had felt
in their ability to overcome all difficulties on the road had now been
justified.

It was just a day afterward that Roger found a chance to strike his
first salmon with the Indian spear. He and Dick had gone ashore at a
likely-looking spot where a small tributary entered the river. The
character of the ground emboldened Roger to believe he might run across
some of the places such as the Indians loved to frequent when fishing
after their peculiar style.

He found that he could creep along and look down upon the water five
or six feet below, where the shadows were dense, and the passage of a
silvery salmon would seem like a ray of sunlight.

Here the boy waited, crouching silently, just as he imagined the expert
Indian fish-spearers were wont to hang. And presently Dick, who was
watching close by, saw him make a furious jab with his spear. Following
this, Roger struggled desperately, and then dragged up a magnificent
fish, floundering at the end of the spear.

This he repeated twice more, when they had enough for the whole party.
That was certainly a red letter day in the life of Roger, and one he
was not likely soon to forget.

More days passed, and they were constantly descending the majestic
river, now unusually high on account of the recent heavy rains. Twice
they were compelled to cut short their day's trip in order to seek
shelter from a downpour; and, after such a recent experience of the dry
and arid strip of country stretching out toward the foot of the Rocky
Mountains, they hardly knew what to make of such weather.

There came a day when, ahead of them, they heard a dull sound that
thrilled every heart. The falls of the Columbia must be at hand, where
they would be compelled to make a portage with the canoes and their
cargoes.

Roger would have liked to strike out and be the first to get within
seeing distance of this natural wonder, but Dick curbed his impatience.

"Better hold back and keep near the rest," he advised. "We none of us
know anything about the falls, and from the Indians we've heard they
are very dangerous. They even claim that a bad spirit is chained under
the water, and always ready to overturn the canoe of any venturesome
brave who ventures too near."

The current was becoming furiously swift, and Captain Lewis, like the
wise leader he was, advised that all the boats make for the shore. It
required considerable sturdy work to effect this, for they had already
gone further down than discretion fully warranted.

All would have gone well except for an unfortunate accident. The paddle
which Roger was using had been cracked a little recently; indeed he had
just that morning discovered the flaw, and declared he must lose no
time in making a new one.

When Roger worked he did it with all his vim and energy; consequently
there was a greater strain on his paddle than would have been the case
had Dick, for instance, been handling it.

Feeling the savage pull of the fierce current the boy even put a little
extra strength into his labor, which was a hazardous thing to do,
considering the circumstances.

Dick, methodically handling his own blade, was suddenly thrilled to
hear his comrade give vent to a cry of dismay. As he looked up he saw
Roger holding the fragment of a paddle in his hands. The treacherous
blade had broken just at the most critical time possible. They were
held fast in the grip of a current which Dick, with his single paddle,
could never succeed in combatting; and just below them the roar of
the falls sounded, while they could see the foam-capped waves, that
announced the beginning of the rapids, just ahead of their drifting
canoe!




CHAPTER XXIX

NEARING THE SALTY SEA


FORTUNATELY the others were close at hand when this catastrophe
happened. Dick, of course, plied his paddle with the utmost vigor, but,
in spite of his endeavors, their canoe was dragged perilously close to
the verge of the fall, and, if left to themselves, the boys would have
had a serious time of it.

The nearest boat chanced to contain Jasper Williams and another.
Williams had always been known as a quick-witted man when trouble came
suddenly from a clear sky.

Loud cries arose. Then this boat was seen speeding straight toward the
one that had been crippled by the breaking of the paddle.

"Here, take hold of this rope!" Jasper Williams was heard calling, and
Roger, who had been watching the approach of the other canoe in a sort
of dumb anxiety, not knowing how their arrival would help, managed to
secure the line that came flying through the air.

He saw what the trapper had in mind. Dick, too, bent all his energies
to his own paddle, while the blades in the other canoe flashed fast and
furiously as the two paddlers bent their broad backs to the task.

The current was loath to give up its expected prey, and it fought
furiously before admitting defeat; but brain triumphed in the end. One
thing that helped materially was the fact that with every yard they
gained in the direction of the bank the grip of the current grew less
severe.

In the end they reached land, much to the relief of both boys. Roger
looked a little white under the eyes, although he stoutly protested
that he had not been much alarmed.

When later on they had a chance to see from what they had escaped
through the happy circumstance of Jasper Williams' possession of the
rope, the boys were very grateful things had turned out as they did.
Dick realized that there was not much hope for any one unfortunate
enough to be swept over those falls, and carried through the rapids,
where cruel rocks waited on every hand to bruise the victim.

The party went into camp on the spot, and expected to be lulled to
sleep that night by the incessant roar as the water took the plunge.
Roger meant to busy himself below the falls as soon as he could get
there, armed with his spear, of which he had by this time become very
proud.

They soon learned that this spot was a favorite fishing place for the
Indians. Indeed, there did not seem to be a minute of the day that one
or more dusky sons of the wilderness could not be seen prowling around,
armed with spears with which they would adroitly stab any fish that
came within reach. (Note 9.)

The salmon on reaching a waterfall exhibits a wonderful agility in
lofty leaping, in the endeavor to gain the upper reaches of the stream.
This, of course, is more frequent in the spring when the fish wish to
reach their spawning beds far up in the rivers. Still, the boys saw
many fish make the leap while they were at the falls, some reaching
projecting ledges, and resting for another frantic attempt; others
falling back, doubtless to make a more successful effort later.

These Indians the boys found were of a different tribe from any they
had thus far encountered, and they soon decided they must belong to the
fighting tribe of whom they had heard so many contradictory accounts,
the Flat Heads.

Very naturally, since they had probably never before seen a white
man, the Indians displayed considerable curiosity. They were at first
inclined to flee, showing all the signs of alarm and enmity; but
Captain Lewis made friendly signs, and in the end succeeded in soothing
their fears.

"I don't like their looks, though," Roger said to Dick, as they watched
several of the Flat Head braves accepting little trinkets, such as
 beads and minute mirrors, which had been carried along for the
purpose of trading with the natives.

"I agree with you there," admitted Dick. "They have a different
appearance from the friendly Nez Perces, the Mandans, or any other
tribe we have met so far."

"I believe they must be more treacherous than the others," continued
Roger, uneasily. "You know we have heard not a single good word about
them from any source."

"Well, 'the proof of the pudding is in the eating of it,' as we've
heard many the time at home, Roger; and we shouldn't judge people
wholly by their looks. Captain Lewis seems to be willing to trust them.
If any person can make friends with these Flat Heads, he will."

"Unless they've already determined to hate, and try to exterminate us,"
grumbled the other, of course referring to the underhand measures which
they believed Lascelles and his companion meant to put into practice.

It was not long before Roger found a good use for his spear. He watched
how the red fishermen plied their weapons and copied their method.
Although he could hardly expect to be an expert in the beginning the
boy soon learned to handle his new tool with considerable skill; and
Dick commended his work when he saw him strike a splendid silvery fish
that had shown itself near the surface.

It was not a very difficult task getting the canoes around the portage,
or carry. There was a regular path which doubtless had been worn by the
moccasined feet of countless red Indians for ages past, since this spot
must always have been a favorite one for laying in stores of fish food.

The second night was passed some distance below the falls, though their
musical roar could still be plainly heard. Always eager to learn facts
in connection with what lay ahead, Captain Lewis questioned some of the
Indians once more with regard to how many days journey they still had
to expect before arriving at the ocean.

Thanks to his mastery of the sign language, the commander was able
to discover what he sought; and it was pleasing intelligence that he
communicated to the rest of the company that same night.

November was at hand, and before the month had gone far they should
arrive at the termination of their great adventure, with the ocean
stretching before them.

From the present time they could count on an easy voyage, unless
something entirely unexpected cropped up to dismay them. The current
of the Columbia was swift, and could be counted on to carry them along
without a paddle being dipped, if they felt like avoiding the labor.

Already were the men beginning to count on the glorious experience
they expected to have while the winter lasted, hunting and fishing as
the weather permitted, and with the wonderful sea to gaze upon. It was
planned to go into winter quarters as soon as they arrived at their
destination. This would permit of their gathering a great store of
food, after the Indian custom.

Only one fly remained in the ointment of the boys. They could not
forget that, as long as the revengeful Frenchman, Francois Lascelles,
hovered about that part of the country, they could never feel safe. No
matter if he were unseen, they knew him well enough to believe that he
would be plotting in some underhand way to injure them, as he had done
so many times in the past.

"We will never know a minute's peace as long as that man is alive,"
said Roger, when the subject came up to cast a shadow on their
happiness.

The weather did not improve as they descended the Columbia. Rain fell
frequently, and twice they saw where serious landslides had occurred.
It made them more careful as to where they camped when night came, for,
should they be so unfortunate as to be caught in one of these slips,
the result was apt to be exceedingly serious.

They saw Indians daily. Sometimes these were ashore, and again they met
them in canoes made of hide, or, it might be, dugouts formed from logs.
In most cases the natives avoided them, for the sight of white faces
and beards filled them with wonder and fear. Some of them must have
believed the explorers had come from one of the stars, and were people
of another world, for never had they dreamed there could be any but
copper- inhabitants on this sphere.

Nor were the adventurers always free from peril from this source. On
several occasions an arrow had been known to hurtle into camp; and one
of the men even received a flesh wound.

For a short time it was feared the shaft might have had a poisoned tip,
and every expedient to neutralize the venom was immediately applied. As
the man did not suffer any great disability on account of his injury,
they finally concluded that the Flat Heads, at least, did not dip the
heads of their war arrows in the poison of the rattlesnake, as some
tribes were known to do. (Note 10.)

Captain Lewis did not like the menacing manner in which some of these
Indians acted when on the bank of the river, while the little flotilla
of canoes was passing.

"I feel certain there is some malign influence at work, behind the
scenes," Dick heard him telling Captain Clark, after they had seen a
manifestation of this ill humor one day, when several half-naked red
skins brandished their spears toward them as the boats drifted past,
at the same time uttering angry cries; "and, since we happen to know
that Lascelles slipped past us down the river, there can be no doubt it
is his work."

"A few days more and we shall be there, the captain says," announced
Roger, as he made his way back a short distance up the river in company
with his chum, they having noticed signs of game.

The boys had gone about half a mile from the camp, having caught sight
of a feeding deer.

"We are getting close to the spot where we glimpsed that deer feeding
on the green grass, so let us stop talking, and be on the watch," Dick
suggested, thinking the animal might have moved from its place.

Three minutes afterwards Roger gave a low "hist."

"I can see him right now," he whispered, and, following the direction
of the extended finger, Dick also caught sight of the dun-
figure.

Really it must have been a very hungry deer. As a rule such an animal,
when feeding, is so nervous and suspicious that every minute or so
its tail will whisk, and the hunters know from this that the deer
will immediately raise its head to take a look around. But although
the boys as they advanced kept their eyes fastened closely on their
intended quarry, they could not see even the slightest movement.

Roger had begged the privilege of having first shot, and, when they had
crept as close as seemed wise, his gun-stock came up against his cheek,
his eye ran along the sights, and then his finger pressed the hair
trigger of the long-barreled rifle.

Strange to say, the deer never moved even then. Roger was more than
amazed.

"Give him a shot, Dick!" he cried, "or he may get away from us yet,
thanks to my poor aim!"

Dick was about to comply, when suddenly the deer toppled over. There
was something decidedly suspicious in the way the animal collapsed, and
Dick had a flash of intelligence sweep over him. He believed the deer
was being used for a stalking animal, and had been dead all the while,
its body propped up to deceive them. And even as this dreadful truth
struck him, he heard loud Indian whoops ring out.




CHAPTER XXX

A MOMENT OF PERIL


"WE are done for!" cried Roger, as vociferous yells from various
quarters told of the sudden peril that had burst upon them.

The pioneer boys had often, when sitting at the knees of their fathers,
heard how the crafty Indians along the Ohio River, wishing to coax
the settlers ashore when they drifted down the stream in their shanty
boats, would resort to a ruse.

There were white renegades among the natives, men like Simon Girty, who
had been chased out of the settlements for wrong-doing, and who, hating
their kind, had joined fortunes with the red tribes.

One of these turncoats would disguise himself, and set up a plaintive
appeal for help, claiming to be an honest man, who had just escaped
from the torture post of the Indians, and begging the newcomers not to
forsake him.

In a few instances his appeals would touch the hearts of the whites,
so that, even against their good judgment, they were known to work
the flatboat near the bank. Of course an attack always followed, the
Indians springing up from their places of concealment.

Dick remembered those thrilling stories now, when he and Roger were
victims of a ruse along similar lines. That dummy deer had been placed
so it could be seen by those in the canoes. The master mind capable of
conceiving this trick knew well that the two lads were born hunters,
and, in the need of fresh meat for the camp, could hardly resist the
temptation.

The game had worked only too well. So cleverly had the dead deer been
arranged that even their sharp eyes had failed to detect anything
wrong, except that the animal seemed to remain persistently in one
spot, and never raised his head.

Almost immediately, flitting forms were seen among the trees. The boys
did not stop to count them, but there must certainly have been a full
dozen of the enemy.

Two figures they glimpsed that were not copper-, and nearly
destitute of clothing, as was the case with the Flat Head braves. There
was no need to call out and announce their discovery, for both boys
realized in a flash that they were once again face to face with the
evil genius of their lives, the French trader, Francois Lascelles,
together with his equally unscrupulous ally, Andrew Waller.

Roger, with his customary impulsiveness, felt a wave of hot indignation
sweep over him. This man, whom they had never sought to harm, had
followed them ever since they set out from their homes on the lower
Missouri, bent on saving the Armstrong property. Many times had they
suffered from his persecution, and no one could really blame Roger for
feeling bitterly toward the trader.

Influenced by his impulsive and headstrong nature, he hastily threw his
gun up to his shoulder, and, covering the advancing Frenchman, pulled
the trigger.

No report followed, which at the moment was a bitter disappointment to
Roger, with his mind so set on settling the score then and there. Of
course, it flashed upon him that he could not expect his gun to load
itself, since he had just fired the one bullet it contained into the
deer that had been used as a decoy.

With a cry of anger he turned, and, almost before Dick knew what was
up, had snatched the loaded rifle from his hands, thrusting his own
useless weapon into his chum's grasp.

But the two renegades saw him do this, and realized their danger,
for, though the exchange took but a couple of seconds, they had had
sufficient warning to put stout trees between themselves and the angry
boy.

When Roger whirled around, bent on carrying out his design, he was
just in time to see Waller vanish behind a tree. It was a foregone
conclusion that the quick-witted Lascelles had been even faster in his
movements, since he knew well that he must be the object of the lad's
blind anger.

Indians there were in sight, running toward them, and brandishing their
tomahawks and spears threateningly, at the same time dodging behind
various trees as if to confuse the "palefaces."

Evidently they feared those wonderful sticks that spat out fire, and
made a sound like unto the near-by thunder, as well as mysteriously
slew whatever they were pointed at.

"We must run for it, Roger!" cried Dick, seeing that it was folly to
think of trying to stand off a dozen savages with but one loaded gun
between them.

"All right!" gasped Roger, as he swung around and put himself in
motion, for it was plain to be seen that not a second should be lost if
they hoped to outwit the enemy.

No sooner was their intention evident than a new burst of wild yells
told that the Indians were in hot pursuit. High above the fiendish
cries Dick could hear the heavier voices of the two treacherous white
men, and he knew that Lascelles and Waller must be keeping in the van
of their pursuers.

The boys might have turned and tried to frighten the Indians off by a
second shot, but it would be losing precious time, and every second
must count when their lives hung in the balance.

The boys were clever runners, and under ordinary conditions might have
been able to keep well ahead of the fleet-footed Indians. There was one
unfortunate thing, however, that promised to hamper them sadly, and it
concerned Roger's ability to keep up the pace.

Several days before, almost a week in fact, he had turned his ankle,
and had ever since complained of feeling it pain him from time to time,
especially if he gave that foot any sort of a wrench.

He had not taken a score of leaps when his toe chanced to catch in a
root, and, while the boy did not measure his length on the ground, he
did feel a sharp pain shoot through that weak ankle.

It made his heart sink to realize that he was bound to feel it worse
with every bound he took, and that in the end it might be the means of
their downfall.

Dick had kept close to the river-bank in his flight. He did this for
several good reasons. In the first place, they had come that way, and
knew the ground more or less. Then, again, the camp lay up the river,
and, if help was to meet them part way, they must head straight for the
boats.

He was inclined at first to try to shout, in the expectation that those
in camp would come to their assistance the faster; but, on second
thought, he realized it would only be wasting his breath. Surely they
must have heard the sound of Roger's rifle, and those wild whoops
bursting on their ears soon afterwards would tell their friends what
had happened.

He fully believed Captain Clark would sally forth with some of the men,
bent on attempting their rescue. It was only a question of keeping
ahead of their persistent pursuers long enough to allow the others to
come up.

"Faster, Roger, faster!"

Roger heard his comrade say this and he strove his utmost to obey, but
the injured ankle was giving him more trouble every second and, despite
his efforts, he failed to keep up to his usual standard of speed.

"My ankle--I've hurt it again!" he called out, between his set teeth.

Dick heard this with a thrill of horror. It seemed to seal their fate,
for, if they could not increase their speed, the Indians were bound to
overtake them long before any help might arrive.

He tried to catch hold of Roger's arm, as though his first thought was
to render assistance; but that was impossible when running as they
were. Roger indeed shook himself free.

"Save yourself, Dick! I'm nearly done for!" he exclaimed.

Dick did not try to answer. He needed all his breath to carry him
along; but, if he had spoken, it would have been to scorn indignantly
the suggestion that he leave his chum behind, and look out for himself.
Dick was not that kind of boy; and if need be he would stand by Roger,
fighting to the end.

There was the swift-running river just beside them. Dick wished from
the bottom of his heart that they could in some way make use of it in
order to give their pursuers the slip; yet he could not decide how it
could be accomplished.

If they jumped in, and attempted to swim across, there were undoubtedly
among the half-naked braves many who could make faster progress,
unhampered as they would be with clothes. Oh! if only one of the boats
would shoot into view, manned by a couple of the brave fellows whose
guns would soon work havoc among the natives and put them to flight!

Dick saw no chance of obtaining help from that quarter. The ground
underfoot was now slippery, and he remembered that they had passed over
a place where the earth seemed spongy.

He could only see one hope left. This was for them to seek refuge
behind trees, and try to hold the enemy at bay long enough to enable
their friends to arrive on the spot. And, since the Indians might rush
them despite their threatening guns, this seemed almost like a forlorn
hope.




CHAPTER XXXI

THE END OF THE LONG TRAIL


IT was just at that critical moment that something wholly unexpected
happened. As long as they lived Dick and Roger believed that the
Providence that had so long watched over their fortunes, seeing their
terrible distress, had come to the rescue.

They heard a sudden sound that bewildered them at first. It was
a horrible sucking noise, and both lads actually felt the ground
quivering under their feet.

Instinctively they came to a pause, as the yells back of them changed
to cries of great fear, some of which seemed to be half-muffled. There
was, accompanying these sounds, a strange splashing, and the crash of
trees going down.

As the boys whirled around, stunned by all these remarkable sounds,
they looked upon one of the most terrifying spectacles that had ever
come before them. A large section of the bank of the river, where
they had found it so wet in passing, had suddenly let go while the
Indians were crossing it, and, together with a number of trees, had
slipped into the deep river. Fully half of the Flat Head Indians went
with the landslide, together with both of the renegades.

[Illustration: "FULLY HALF OF THE FLAT HEAD INDIANS WENT WITH THE
LANDSLIDE"]

Dick plainly discovered Lascelles throwing up his arms in an agony of
fear, as he found himself being dragged along, with those tons and tons
of earth, into a watery grave. Then a great tree smashed down directly
over him and that was the last that human eyes ever saw of the French
trader.

The rest of the Indians stood there spellbound, just as the two boys
did. Superstitious to the core, those who were left must have believed
this calamity could only be looked on as a manifestation of anger on
the part of the Great Manitou, who doubtless held the strange boys,
with the white skins, under his protection.

They made not the slightest attempt to rescue their unfortunate
comrades, but, uttering cries of terror, vanished in the depths of the
forest, doubtless carrying to their village a terrible story of what
had occurred, to cause weeping and wailing among the lodges of the Flat
Heads.

Still watching, the boys saw several figures climb up out of the
agitated waters. They were in every instance the copper-<DW52>
natives, who went limping away, looking back in abject terror.

Though they watched closely, the boys could discover not the slightest
trace of either of the renegades. The trees floated off, or remained
there sunk in the water; but a close examination of the scene of the
landslide convinced Dick and Roger they had surely seen the last of
their bitter enemies.

The two boys could not express their emotion except by clasping each
other's hands and squeezing them fiercely. Their safety had been
brought about through no mortal agency; and it was not singular that
they always looked upon the landslide as a miracle wrought in their
interest.

Shortly afterwards, when Dick had taken his own gun, and Roger managed
to get a load in his weapon, they heard the sound of voices, and some
of the men from the camp appeared. Just as the boys had anticipated,
they were led by brave Captain Clark.

Great was their amazement when they heard the wonderful story the lads
had to tell. It seemed almost unbelievable, and yet there was the
evidence before their very eyes, the gap in the river bank, the fallen
trees, and even some of the Indian tomahawks on the ground where they
had been cast when the remainder of the band fled in dismay from the
fatal spot.

When Captain Lewis was told about it, he declared it to be the judgment
of Heaven upon the heads of those two wicked men. They had sought to
stir up the resentment of the Flat Heads against the little party, and,
had their plans succeeded, the members of the expedition would be in
constant danger of their lives during the whole of the coming winter.

As it was, the Indians must believe the white wanderers were under the
protection of Manitou, and should not be harmed. Captain Lewis could
see how a peace could be made with their leading chiefs, so that, for
the months that were to come, the red men and their "paleface" brothers
should live together as friends.

After all their trials and tribulations things seemed to be working in
the boys' favor at last. With the disappearance of the scheming trader
their greatest source of uneasiness had vanished. The future looked
bright once more, and the boys felt they could sleep without fearing
that something terrible hung over their heads.

That night was really the happiest they had all known for many months.
The fact that they were close to the goal that had tempted them across
the continent did much to bring smiles to the careworn faces of the
voyagers.

"If all the accounts we've been able to pick up are correct," Dick told
Roger that night, while they sat near the fire, the camp being well
guarded every minute of the time, "we ought to reach our destination by
the end of the second day, perhaps sooner."

"Which means we will be able to look out into the west and see nothing
but the vast ocean," Roger added, with a contented sigh. "Well, I feel
glad--yes, doubly glad, for Captain Lewis and Captain Clark."

"I understand why you say that, Roger. To us it means only that our
curiosity will be satisfied; but think what they have risked to carry
out the plan of the President! It will be the greatest day in their
lives when they reach that ocean they have come thousands of miles to
look upon."

"And think of all they have braved to win their end," added the other
boy, his whole expression speaking his deepest admiration for the bold
leaders of the exploring expedition.

Well might the boys say what they did. A thousand perils had waylaid
those daring spirits, yet never once had they dreamed of giving up
their plan. Over unknown trails, through dark canyons, across trackless
plains and burning deserts, up mighty rivers with their strong currents
and swirling rapids--all these and uncounted other dangers had spread
out before them, but without daunting their souls.

No wonder then that the boy of to-day, who reads of this most wonderful
journey ever undertaken in our great country, reveres the names of
those two bold spirits who conducted the expedition to a successful
finish.

With the coming of another day the journey was resumed. Even the
weather seemed to have undergone a fit of repentance, for the skies
were now as clear as crystal, and the rainy spell had evidently passed.

Early in the morning several of the men hastened to the place where the
boys had been deceived by the decoy deer. They brought back the game,
since none of the thoroughly alarmed Flat Heads had dared return for
the carcass.

It was easily seen just how cleverly the animal's head had been fixed
by means of stout sticks and deerskin thongs. The men also judged that
it had been made to stand erect by the aid of other sticks skillfully
concealed. On the whole, the boys concluded they had a story to relate
that would arouse the greatest interest among the home folks, if ever
they were fortunate enough to rejoin the family circle again.

Roger was glad that the remainder of the journey was to be made in the
canoes, for his ankle pained him exceedingly, and he would have been
unable to walk any distance without feeling much distress.

"You will have to take things easy for a while, after we get to our
journey's end," Dick told him. "A sprained ankle is a bad job, and you
may feel it for many weeks. I can look back and remember how long it
took me to get over a wrenched ankle some years ago."

At that Roger laughed aloud.

"I haven't forgotten that time, either, let me tell you, Dick. We
were off on a hunt when you tripped. How your ankle did swell up; it
frightened me, I tell you! But that cold spring water helped a lot to
take the swelling down."

"Yes, and I can see you now, staggering along with me on your back,"
continued Dick, bending a look of sincere affection upon his cousin.
"That was the heaviest load you ever undertook to tote, I wager."

"But I got there, didn't I?" demanded the other, proudly, "winded
though I was. And I made you a pretty fine crutch which you hobbled
around on for weeks, not being able to put your foot on the ground."

Many times, as they talked, did these fond memories of the past arise
to haunt them. The further they went from their well-loved homes the
sharper the pictures seemed to become in their minds. Their dreams were
mostly of those dear ones whose faces were forever before them, in the
clear waters, while threading the mazes of the forest, or even looking
out upon the glittering sands of the burning desert.

When, that afternoon, a halt was made, Captain Lewis cheered them with
the announcement that there could be little doubt they would reach the
mouth of the big river by the following night at the latest. Indeed, as
the men had already discovered that the water was strongly impregnated
with salt, they hardly needed this assurance to convince them that
their long journey was on the eve of termination.

They gave the commander a hearty cheer, however, when he told them this
welcome fact, then set about making what was certainly one of the
happiest camps of the entire trip.

As usual the two boys talked things over while they sat resting after
supper had been dispatched. Roger had sniffed the air several times,
and he finally broke out with a declaration.

"There seems to be something queer in the air, Dick; something I've
never before noticed in all my life. And to tell you the truth, I can
make nothing of it."

"I may be wrong," Dick told him; "but, from all I've heard grandfather
say, I think that must be the salty taste they say one can notice when
the air comes straight off the sea. If that is so, it proves we are
close to the mouth of the river right now."

After that Roger amused himself by sniffing the air many times. It
seemed to give him fresh encouragement to have a silent but powerful
proof carried by the night breeze to their river camp.

Taken in all, it was a rather restless night for some of the
adventurers, and the boys in particular awoke many times, to sit up and
listen. Once Dick even fancied he could hear a far-off, dull, booming
sound that could hardly be thunder, since the stars were out, and not
a cloud as big as his hand in sight.

"I wonder," the boy said softly to himself, with a feeling almost of
awe, "if that can be the sea pounding on the shore. Grandfather has
often told us how it makes a great noise when the tide is coming in,
each wave running along and turning over as it breaks on the sand."

He even sat there for a long while listening, though thinking it best
not to arouse Roger, who chanced to be sleeping at the time. Only when
the strange sound died out, owing to a change of wind, or the turn of
the tide, Dick consented once more to drop back in his blanket. But,
when he did get to sleep again, his dreams were of the glorious triumph
that awaited them close at hand.

The last day dawned, and the camp was early astir. Breakfast was
hastily eaten, the small amount of boat packing attended to, and after
that a start was made.

To-day the paddles were seldom idle. Spurred on by the hope of reaching
their goal before darkness again intervened, the men were only too
willing to work their passage. The swift current might be very well
under ordinary conditions, but on this particular day it proved all
too slow for their eager hearts.

They glimpsed Indians several times, but, strange to say, none of them
manifested the antagonistic manner of those they had seen earlier in
their trip down the Lewis and the Columbia rivers.

Roger, who had noticed the change in the demeanor of the natives,
wondered what was the cause of it, and as usual applied to Dick for his
opinion.

"They are of the same tribe," he remarked, "for by now I know the Flat
Head way of wearing feathers in their scalp-locks. But they seem now to
be afraid of us, for those in that dugout paddled frantically for the
shore; and never an arrow comes our way now. Can you make it out, Dick?"

"The only thing I can think of," Dick replied, "is that word has been
sent out everywhere that the 'paleface people' in the hide canoes are
under the protection of Manitou, and that no harm must be done to them."

"Well," observed Roger, with a happy smile, "if we're going to be
guarded by the Indian Manitou all winter, we needn't be afraid of
anything. When you come to think of it, Dick, that landslide was the
greatest thing that ever happened to us. It held back just long enough
to let us pass, and then swallowed our enemies up."

Noon came and went.

The men were so eager now they hardly wished to land to have something
to eat, though Captain Lewis insisted on it, for he knew they needed a
rest.

Slowly the long afternoon passed, and, constantly on the move, the
canoes swept along the current, urged by the muscles that seemed
never to tire. Hope fought with a growing disappointment. Were they
then, after all, to be cheated out of the anticipated triumph they
had arranged for that night? Perish the thought! and, with that, the
paddlers would dip deeper, and run a race to see which could hold the
van.

The sun sank lower and lower, and every eye watched its race with
almost the same anxiety as was shown when, centuries back, Joshua
commanded the heavenly luminary to stand still in order that his army
might wholly destroy the Philistines.

Dick and Roger concluded that, unless something happened inside of
another hour, they would have to give up all hope of seeing the glad
sight that day.

"We are about to turn a bend in the bank right below," Dick told Roger,
"and, if all is well, perhaps we may see what we are yearning to look
upon."

All possible speed was made in order to turn the point of land covered
with trees, that jutted out into the river. Then from every throat
arose a joyous shout that made the echoes ring. It was the very first
white man's hurrah that was ever heard on the western side of the great
American continent, north of the isthmus, since time began.

There lay the mouth of the Columbia River, and, looking beyond, they
could see the boundless expanse of the Pacific, with the sun, that had
beckoned them on all these thousands of miles, setting in a red blaze
of glory.




CHAPTER XXXII

TO THE RISING SUN--CONCLUSION


ON the following day the flag of the United States floated from the
green hills of Columbia Bay. And, when the adventurers had become
thoroughly rested, they began to discuss the matter as to where they
would stay during the coming winter.

Just what sort of severe weather they might expect none of them, of
course, knew. In those early days nothing was understood with reference
to the famous warm Japan ocean current, which does for the Pacific
coast what the Gulf Stream accomplishes for much of our eastern shore,
as well as for Europe.

So cabins were finally built, in which they hoped to keep fairly
comfortable, and by degrees a supply of meat was laid, in for
consumption during the winter, if the cold should be prolonged like a
Canadian season.

They soon found that the Indians meant to be friendly, and all fear of
trouble from this source was laid to rest. As the days and weeks crept
on they explored some of the surrounding country, and even tried to
make rude maps of it to show when they returned East.

Dick and Roger did their full share in everything that went on. Much of
the meat that was dried that winter, in order to provide a supply on
the return trip over the mountains and down the Missouri, fell before
their guns.

They were also instrumental in helping to tan some of the skins to be
used in making necessary clothing for the men. Having been almost two
years on the trail, some of the members of the expedition were sadly in
need of garments; and this well-tanned buckskin supplied the deficiency
admirably, for in those pioneer days every man was his own tailor.

It would hardly be fitting here to try to tell the many things that
occupied their attention as the winter months passed; but they were
busy most of the time. To the surprise of all the weather never became
severe. Snow they saw on the sides of the mountains, but, taken in all,
they suffered very little from cold, a fact that astonished them very
much.

Finally the spring came, and all eyes were eagerly turned toward the
rising sun; for it was known that the time was now near at hand when
they must start upon the return trip.

The ties that drew them all, men and boys, to the East were many and
strong. Their hearts often swelled with emotion as they thought of
those from whom they had been separated so many months.

"Why," Roger was accustomed to saying, when he and his chum discussed
the time of their departure, now close at hand, "I feel sure I will
never know my little sister, Mary, when I see her again; she must be
such a big girl by now. And as for your brother, Sam, you may find him
able to give you a good tussle in a wrestle."

Thus they often talked of their loved ones, but neither of the boys
ever dared express the one dread fear that sometimes tugged at their
heartstrings, which was that they might find some face missing in the
family circle when they reached home again.

Toward the end of March, everything being favorable, they once more
started up the broad Columbia, saying farewell to the place where they
had passed such a contented winter. No serious illness had visited
them, and all were very anxious to get started.

Reaching the village of the Nez Perces, they had no difficulty in
claiming their horses, which had survived the winter. And, having made
many presents to their red friends, the adventurers again set forth.

They had a faithful guide this time who showed them how to avoid some
of the worst of the burning desert. The changed season of the year
also aided them, so that, in the end, they reached in safety the lofty
barrier that divided the continent.

Crossing the Rocky Mountains they proceeded to where they had left
their companions, and were fortunate enough to find them safe and
sound. It was a joyous reunion all around.

They had troubles with the Indians, though as a rule they found the red
men inclined to be friendly; and, in return for medicine and services
rendered, received many favors at the hands of the natives, including
much-needed meat.

Once, among the Blackfeet, they were forced to make a hasty flight,
when some of the thievish Indians tried to steal their horses; and in
the melee a brave was shot, though the animals were saved.

When finally the Missouri was reached the party set to work to make new
canoes, having by degrees lost their horses or traded them with the
Indians for necessities. Captain Lewis knew that for the hundreds of
miles they now had to traverse, boats would be far more preferable to
horses, because the going was all downstream, with a swift current, the
river being in its spring flood.

Some of the canoes they made themselves, others were purchased from the
Indians; in this way enough were provided to carry the entire party.

Day after day they kept pushing resolutely down the great river,
camping by night on the bank. The summer was already well along, and
they knew it would be close to October before they could expect to make
the village of St. Louis, the first settlement on their course.

It was just about the end of September when they did arrive, and the
event created the most intense excitement ever known in that border
post. Most people, who had seen the expedition set forth nearly two and
a half years back, believed the brave captains and all with them had
perished.

When Mayhew, the scout, had shown up, bearing the precious paper which
meant so much to the Armstrongs, he had, of course, brought news; and
it was known that the expedition had reached a place near the far
distant headwaters of the Missouri; but since then weary months of
waiting had ensued, with never a word, and hope beat but faintly in
those fond hearts at home.

It was a joyous meeting. Roger could hardly believe the tall girl who
threw her arms about his neck was his little sister, Mary; and as for
Sam, he bade fair to soon look down on Dick, he was growing so fast.

Grandfather and Grandmother Armstrong were both there, hale and hearty,
and mighty proud of their two sturdy grandsons, who had made that
wonderful trip to the western sea in company with the President's
private secretary.

The whole country applauded the hardy men who had done this great feat,
and with reason, for, as one account says:

"They were world conquerors in the best sense, in that they had blazed
the way for thousands of sturdy homeseekers who soon followed in their
wake, building homes, cities, manufacturing plants, railroads and
telegraph lines where once had roamed the lordly bison, the herds of
dun- antelope, the vast bodies of stately elk; and where, in the
silence of the mountains and the forest the grizzly bear--monarch of
the plains and the valleys--had moved in the peace and seclusion of the
vast wilderness."

In later years, after the original pioneers of the Armstrong family had
been gathered to their fathers, the families scattered, as new things
arose to lure some of the younger members further into the wide West.

They have settled, the newer generations of them, some in Oregon, along
the mighty Columbia which Dick and Roger were among the first whites to
see; others on wheat growing farms in Dakota, or else on cattle ranches
in Montana; though there can still be found Armstrongs in St. Louis,
proud to trace their ancestry back to those bold pioneers whose early
history we have attempted to narrate in these volumes.

Jasper Williams often visited his young friends when he came to
the growing settlement at the junction of the Missouri with the
Mississippi. He lived to dandle the children of Dick and Roger on his
knee, and tell them many of the exciting adventures which those two
hold lads encountered when crossing the Great Divide with Lewis and
Clark.

Nothing was ever heard of either Lascelles or Andrew Waller, and the
boys never entertained a doubt but that the renegades met their fate
in that strange landslide by which they had been precipitated into the
Columbia.

And, since we have seen the safe return of the wanderers, and watched
the happy ending of their great adventure, it is but right that we
bring our story of early pioneer days to a close.


THE END




NOTES


NOTE 1 (PAGE 5)

When the vast territory then known as Louisiana was purchased from the
French Nation for fifteen million dollars, in the nineteenth century,
no one knew what its extent was. It took in the country west of the
Mississippi, from the Gulf below New Orleans; but what really lay to
the far northwest was merely a conjecture.

President Jefferson was determined to know just what was included in
this Louisiana Purchase, and it was mainly through his individual
efforts that an expedition was organized with the purpose of exploring
the country as far as the Pacific; for, of course, it was understood
that the ocean bounded the land on the west.

His private secretary, Meriwether Lewis, was put in command of the
party, with a military second, Captain Clark. What wonderful things
they accomplished history has recorded. It was in the spring of 1804
that the expedition left St. Louis, and two years and a half expired
before they returned to that border post, having successfully carried
out their undertaking.


NOTE 2 (PAGE 22)

In those early pioneer days flint and steel were commonly brought
into service when a fire was needed. So expert did the settlers and
borderers become in the use of these that they thought little more of
accomplishing the end they had in view than a Boy Scout of to-day does
with the match. All they asked was a handful of dry tinder, and the
ready spark quickly had a blaze going.

It was not so easy when the question of firing their guns was
concerned. The flint was fastened to the heavy hammer, and, in falling,
was supposed to strike the steel plate provided for this purpose, when
a spark might be looked for. This, falling into the powder placed in
the little cavity known as the "pan," brought about the explosion.
But, frequently, this small amount of powder would be jostled from its
receptacle, and this would cause a failure at perhaps a most critical
time. Many a settler in those days lost his life by just this accident;
and frequent disappointments during a hunt for game could be traced to
the same cause.


NOTE 3 (PAGE 44)

Contact with the natives made the early settlers quite proficient in
deciphering Indian picture writing, so they were able to read fairly
well many communications passing between parties of those who possibly
might be reckoned their deadly enemies. This method of using crude
designs to convey the sense of a communication, or even the history
of a tribe or family, was often carried out by fanciful pictures
decorating the skin of which the teepee was made. In such fashion
many of the gallant deeds of the chief or warrior to whom the wigwam
belonged were perpetuated.

Really, little common sense alone is needed to decipher most of these
picture writings. Once the key had been found, they become as plain as
print. Smoke stands for fires; the sun is easily seen on the horizon,
or high above it, though toward the west, it may be; horses; deer with
antlers; men walking, running, or crawling; and similar designs become
plainly decipherable; and in this manner the story that is intended to
be conveyed can be traced out.

It is an interesting study, and many who belong to Boy Scout troops
have found considerable entertainment in pursuing the fascinating work.


NOTE 4 (PAGE 50)

Among all the Indian tribes found upon the North American Continent
when the pioneers surged toward the setting sun, none has interested
the historian so much as the Mandans, sometimes called the "White
Indians," because their skins differed so much from that of other
tribes. All sorts of wild theories have been offered as an explanation
of the wide difference existing between this tribe and others. It is
true that they buried their dead as did the rest of the tribes west
of the Mississippi, using scaffolds that the wolves might not get to
the bodies; and there were many other habits that stamped them true
Indians. At the same time historians, who had lived among them, find a
similarity in many of their words and customs to the Welsh people; and
it has always been believed by many that, long ago, a boat containing
Welsh sailors was wrecked in the Gulf of Mexico after a tropical
hurricane, and that, ascending the mighty river, the whites married
into some Indian tribe, so that eventually the Mandans came into
existence.

There have been other speculations, and it is very interesting to
read about these various theories, and try to guess which one of them
can be the true explanation; for that there must have been something
remarkable about the origin of this tribe no one can deny. They were
not as warlike as some of the tribes with whom they came in contact,
such as the fierce Sioux; but at the same time it appears that they
held their own in the numerous wars which followed an invasion by one
tribe upon the hunting grounds of another.

Unfortunately the Mandans were utterly wiped out in later years by the
great scourge of smallpox, which possibly may have been one of the
unwelcome gifts brought to them by the palefaces.


NOTE 5 (PAGE 64)

In crossing the great plains that lie between the valley of the
Mississippi and the foothills of the Rocky Mountains, it is in these
days difficult to realize the tremendous changes that have taken place
there during the last fifty or sixty years. Especially is this true
with regard to animal life. Where to-day herds of long-horned cattle
graze, or vast fields of nodding grain tell of the prosperous farmer,
in those times uncounted numbers of great shaggy bison roamed.

According to many of the accounts that have come down to us from
authentic sources, the sight of such a herd rolling past, as far as
the eye could see, and for hour after hour, must have been a most
impressive spectacle.

Where have they all gone? Up to then the needs of the Indians and the
depredations of wild animals had made no impression on the incredible
number of the herds; although the red men often drove hundreds of the
big animals over some precipice, and took nothing but the tongues, to
be dried as a delicacy.

The first serious inroad among the buffaloes occurred when the railroad
was being pushed across the plains, and men like Cody, afterwards known
as Buffalo Bill, were employed to slaughter the beasts in order to
provide sufficient food for the thousands of workers. Then it began
to be the thing for parties to set out and kill for the sake of the
slaughter. The robes were also brought into use for sleighing and other
purposes. But the advent of the repeating rifle signed the real death
warrant for the bison of the plains. Then they rapidly dwindled to
almost nothing. In place of the millions that once galloped north and
south in the seasons there are to-day but one or two small herds, in
the National Yellowstone Park or in private preserves. Like the once
numerous wild pigeons called the passenger pigeons which existed in
untold numbers, the buffaloes have had their day.


NOTE 6 (PAGE 194)

In the cabin of every pioneer family could always be seen rows of
dried herbs fastened to the rafters. These as a rule were intended for
medicinal purposes, most of them being brewed into tea, when sickness
invaded the household, which was not often, since the active outdoor
life, and the primitive food of the early settlers, made them an
exceedingly hardy race.

Most housewives knew how to make ointments for sprains and healing by
a clever admixture of these strong decoctions with bear's fat, or, if
they chanced to have it, pork lard, though in most cases pigs were
unknown to frontier life, while a bear was always a possibility.

Many of those old remedies were fully as satisfactory as those of the
modern druggist. They were pure, to begin with, and calculated not to
serve as "cure-alls," but each intended for a specific purpose. Indeed,
it would seem as if in those days they counted on Nature's taking
hold and lending a helping hand. A simple remedy to break a fever was
resorted to, and then careful nursing, as well as a good constitution,
did the rest.

Before the Armstrong boys set out upon their trip it was only natural
for their mothers to see that in their ditty bags they carried a supply
of several of these standard remedies.


NOTE 7 (PAGE 233)

From the accounts that have been handed down to us, written by Captain
Lewis himself, it appears that the explorers were awed and inspired by
the wonderful scenery that lay before them on their way to the Great
Divide. Rugged mountains were there, brown, steep, hemlock-clad. Deep
game trails led through the tangled meshes of the forest, and in the
sparkling rivulets the trout jumped at the floating gnats and other
insects. Gorges and canyons had to be passed, where the howling waters
raced in an apparent agony, and flute-like came the sound of the
snow-cold water against the pebbly bottoms.

At night the scream of the mountain lion echoed across the silent
valleys, while the bleat of the antelope could be heard upon the vast
plains near the river-bed. Eagles soared above, peering disdainfully at
the black specks of men beneath; and sage hens craned their necks at
them, when they tramped from the river in search of game. Over all was
the clear, pure air of that vast mountain plateau, which invigorates,
stimulates, and makes one feel as if he had the strength of ten.
Inspired and stimulated by the thought that they were making history,
it is no wonder those men pressed steadily on, determined to view the
gray waters of the fog-sheeted Pacific in the end.


NOTE 8 (PAGE 268)

One of the first things noticed by the members of the expedition,
when they began to encounter the tribes living near the Rockies,
was the fact that every warrior or chief who was looked up to as a
brave man wore a necklace of terrible bears' claws. This proved that
the possessor had by his own individual prowess, and usually in an
encounter at close quarters, succeeded in slaying one of those monster
denizens of the wilds, afterwards known as grizzly bears.

There can be no doubt that this beast is by all odds the most savage
and dreaded wild animal of the Western World. Indeed, there are those
who say they would much rather meet a lion or a tiger in its native
country than the grizzly bear. When an Indian, with his primitive
weapons, and at the risk of his life, was able to take those claws, and
string them about his neck, none could dispute his right to the title
of a valiant man.

Those who have hunted big game under every sun are frank enough to say
that if a grizzly bear could climb a tree like a panther, and get over
ground as fast as a lion, he would stand without a peer as the most
feared game to be found. In these modern days of the repeating rifle of
large bore, and the exploding bullet, it is not very difficult to kill
the monster; but every one who has seen a grizzly bear in his native
haunts is willing to hold in honor those red hunters of the early
times, who, armed only with hatchet and knife, deliberately sought an
encounter, bent on proving their right to the name of warrior.


NOTE 9 (PAGE 300)

The Indians took toll of the big silver-sided salmon as they made their
way up the Columbia to spawn. They used as a rule a primitive fish
spear with which they were very expert.

There were always salmon to be found at the foot of the fall, or in
shallow creeks that emptied into the big river, but, when the spring
finally came, the fish would pass in from the sea in multitudes beyond
reckoning, all eager to get up to the shallow waters where they could
spawn.

Eye witnesses of undoubted veracity have described the scene where, in
places, the multitude of these big fish was so great that they filled
the stream with a solid mass.

Of course those days are past. In these times, when numerous canneries
are operating along the river, and millions of tins of fish are put
up every season, it could hardly be expected that the supply would
continue in unlimited quantities. Though as yet there has been no
serious inroad made, thanks to the action of the Federal Government,
and the work of the active Fish Commissioners, who see to it that
the fish wheels, by means of which catches are made, are regulated
according to law. Still the sight of the untold numbers that greeted
the eyes of the explorers on that early spring of 1806 has passed
forever.


NOTE 10 (PAGE 305)

The fear sometimes felt by the explorers that the Indians were using
poisoned arrows was not unfounded, since it was well known that some of
the tribes resorted to this fiendish practice, with the flint-tipped
weapons intended for war purposes.

Their usual way of making the arrows deadly was to find a healthy
looking rattlesnake, and provoke him by thrusts from a long stick. When
the reptile had become sufficiently furious, and was lunging madly, a
piece of raw meat would be fastened to the end of the pole, and this he
was coaxed to strike again and again, until it was well saturated with
the green virus from his fangs.

When this infected meat had become a mass of poison, arrows were dipped
in it, and allowed to dry. Once these entered the flesh of an enemy, as
a rule his death was certain. Of course an entirely different lot of
arrows would be used for hunting purposes, the deadly sort being kept
only for war.

History however does not record many deaths from this source, so
it must be taken for granted that, as a rule, the Indians disliked
resorting to such a severe measure of defense. Possibly it did not
appeal to them as exactly fair, and they were more than ready to
measure their tomahawks and knives and spears, as well as their
ordinary arrows, against the guns owned by the white men. Certainly no
one of the Lewis and Clark party suffered from poisoned arrows during
the long journey across the western country.




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ancestors and the early days of the Republic."--_Boston Globe._


=THE PIONEER BOYS ON THE GREAT LAKES;= OR, ON THE TRAIL OF THE IROQUOIS.

"The recital of the daring deeds of the frontier is not only
interesting but instructive as well and shows the sterling
type of character which these days of self-reliance and trial
produced."--_American Tourist, Chicago._


=THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE MISSISSIPPI;= OR, THE HOMESTEAD IN THE
WILDERNESS.

"The story is told with spirit, and is full of adventure."--_New York
Sun._


=THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE MISSOURI;= OR, IN THE COUNTRY OF THE SIOUX.

"Vivid in style, vigorous in movement, full of dramatic situations,
true to historic perspective, this story is a capital one for
boys."--_Watchman Examiner, New York City._


=THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE YELLOWSTONE;= OR, LOST IN THE LAND OF WONDERS.

"There is plenty of lively adventure and action and the story is well
told."--_Duluth Herald, Duluth, Minn._


=THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE COLUMBIA;= OR, IN THE WILDERNESS OF THE GREAT
NORTHWEST.

"The story is full of spirited action and contains much valuable
historical information."--_Boston Herald._





THE HADLEY HALL SERIES

By LOUISE M. BREITENBACH

  _Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_  $1.50


=ALMA AT HADLEY HALL=

"The author is to be congratulated on having written such an appealing
book for girls."--_Detroit Free Press._


=ALMA'S SOPHOMORE YEAR=

"It cannot fail to appeal to the lovers of good things in girls'
books."--_Boston Herald._


=ALMA'S JUNIOR YEAR=

"The diverse characters in the boarding-school are strongly drawn,
the incidents are well developed and the action is never dull."--_The
Boston Herald._


=ALMA'S SENIOR YEAR=

"Incident abounds in all of Miss Breitenbach's stories and a healthy,
natural atmosphere breathes from every chapter."--_Boston Transcript._




THE GIRLS OF FRIENDLY TERRACE SERIES

By HARRIET LUMMIS SMITH

  _Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_  $1.50


=THE GIRLS OF FRIENDLY TERRACE=

"A book sure to please girl readers, for the author seems to understand
perfectly the girl character."--_Boston Globe._


=PEGGY RAYMOND'S VACATION=

"It is a wholesome, hearty story."--_Utica Observer._


=SCHOOL DAYS ON FRIENDLY TERRACE=

The book is delightfully written, and contains lots of exciting
incidents.




FAMOUS LEADERS SERIES

By CHARLES H. L. JOHNSTON

  _Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_  $1.50


=FAMOUS CAVALRY LEADERS=

"More of such books should be written, books that acquaint young
readers with historical personages in a pleasant, informal way."--_New
York Sun._

"It is a book that will stir the heart of every boy and will prove
interesting as well to the adults."--_Lawrence Daily World._


=FAMOUS INDIAN CHIEFS=

"Mr. Johnston has done faithful work in this volume, and his relation
of battles, sieges and struggles of these famous Indians with the
whites for the possession of America is a worthy addition to United
States History."--_New York Marine Journal._


=FAMOUS SCOUTS=

"It is the kind of a book that will have a great fascination for boys
and young men, and while it entertains them it will also present
valuable information in regard to those who have left their impress
upon the history of the country."--_The New London Day._


=FAMOUS PRIVATEERSMEN AND ADVENTURERS OF THE SEA=

"The tales are more than merely interesting; they are entrancing,
stirring the blood with thrilling force and bringing new zest to the
never-ending interest in the dramas of the sea."--_The Pittsburgh Post._


=FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN AND HEROES OF THE BORDER=

This book is devoted to a description of the adventurous lives and
stirring experiences of many pioneer heroes who were prominently
identified with the opening of the Great West.

"The accounts are not only authentic, but distinctly readable,
making a book of wide appeal to all who love the history of actual
adventure."--_Cleveland Leader._





HILDEGARDE-MARGARET SERIES

By LAURA E. RICHARDS

Eleven Volumes


The Hildegarde-Margaret Series, beginning with "Queen Hildegarde" and
ending with "The Merryweathers," make one of the best and most popular
series of books for girls ever written.

  _Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_   $1.25
  _The eleven volumes boxed as a set_                           $13.75


LIST OF TITLES

    =QUEEN HILDEGARDE=
    =HILDEGARDE'S HOLIDAY=
    =HILDEGARDE'S HOME=
    =HILDEGARDE'S NEIGHBORS=
    =HILDEGARDE'S HARVEST=
    =THREE MARGARETS=
    =MARGARET MONTFORT=
    =PEGGY=
    =RITA=
    =FERNLEY HOUSE=
    =THE MERRYWEATHERS=




THE CAPTAIN JANUARY SERIES

By LAURA E. RICHARDS

  _Each 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_      50 cents


=CAPTAIN JANUARY=

A charming idyl of New England coast life, whose success has been very
remarkable.

  SAME. _Illustrated Holiday Edition_                   $1.25
  SAME, FRENCH TEXT. _Illustrated Holiday Edition_      $1.25


=MELODY:= THE STORY OF A CHILD.

  SAME. _Illustrated Holiday Edition_                   $1.25


=MARIE=

A companion to "Melody" and "Captain January."


=ROSIN THE BEAU=

A sequel to "Melody" and "Marie."


=SNOW-WHITE;= OR, THE HOUSE IN THE WOOD.


=JIM OF HELLAS;= OR, IN DURANCE VILE, and a companion story, BETHESDA
POOL.


=NARCISSA=

And a companion story, IN VERONA, being two delightful short stories of
New England life.


"=SOME SAY="

And a companion story, NEIGHBORS IN CYRUS.


=NAUTILUS=

"'Nautilus' is by far the best product of the author's powers, and is
certain to achieve the wide success it so richly merits."


=ISLA HERON=

This interesting story is written in the author's usual charming manner.


=THE LITTLE MASTER=

"A well told, interesting tale of a high character."--_California
Gateway Gazette._





DELIGHTFUL BOOKS FOR LITTLE FOLKS

By LAURA E. RICHARDS


=THREE MINUTE STORIES=

Cloth decorative, 12mo, with eight plates in full color and many text
illustrations by Josephine Bruce.

                                    _Net_ $1.25; carriage paid $1.40

"Little ones will understand and delight in the stories and
poems."--_Indianapolis News._


=FIVE MINUTE STORIES=

  Cloth decorative, square 12mo, illustrated      $1.25

A charming collection of short stories and clever poems for children.


=MORE FIVE MINUTE STORIES=

  Cloth decorative, square 12mo, illustrated      $1.25

A noteworthy collection of short stories and poems for children, which
will prove as popular with mothers as with boys and girls.


=FIVE MICE IN A MOUSE TRAP=

  Cloth decorative, square 12mo, illustrated      $1.25

The story of their lives and other wonderful things related by the Man
in the Moon, done in the vernacular from the lunacular form by Laura E.
Richards.


=WHEN I WAS YOUR AGE=

  Cloth, 8vo, illustrated      $1.25

The title most happily introduces the reader to the charming home life
of Doctor Howe and Mrs. Julia Ward Howe, during the childhood of the
author.


=A HAPPY LITTLE TIME=

  Cloth, 8vo, illustrated      $1.25

Little Betty and the happy time she had will appeal strongly to mothers
as well as to the little ones who will have this story read to them,
and appeal all the more on account of its being such a "real" story.




THE BOYS' STORY OF THE RAILROAD SERIES

By BURTON E. STEVENSON

  _Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_   $1.50


=THE YOUNG SECTION-HAND;= OR, THE ADVENTURES OF ALLAN WEST.

"A thrilling story, well told, clean and bright. The whole range
of section railroading is covered in the story, and it contains
information as well as interest."--_Chicago Post._


=THE YOUNG TRAIN DISPATCHER=

"A vivacious account of the varied and often hazardous nature of
railroad life, full of incident and adventure, in which the author has
woven admirable advice about honesty, manliness, self-culture, good
reading, and the secrets of success."--_Congregationalist._


=THE YOUNG TRAIN MASTER=

"It is a book that can be unreservedly commended to anyone who loves a
good, wholesome, thrilling, informing yarn."--_Passaic News._


=THE YOUNG APPRENTICE;= OR, ALLAN WEST'S CHUM.

"The story is intensely interesting, and one gains an intimate
knowledge of the methods and works in the great car shops not easily
gained elsewhere."--_Baltimore Sun._

"It appeals to every boy of enterprising spirit, and at the same
time teaches him some valuable lessons in honor, pluck, and
perseverance."--_Cleveland Plain Dealer._

"The lessons that the books teach in development of uprightness,
honesty and true manly character are sure to appeal to the
reader."--_The American Boy._





    THE LITTLE COLONEL BOOKS
          (Trade Mark)

By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON

  _Each large 12mo, cloth, illustrated, per volume_      $1.50


    =THE LITTLE COLONEL STORIES=
          (Trade Mark)

Being three "Little Colonel" stories in the Cosy Comer Series, "The
Little Colonel," "Two Little Knights of Kentucky," and "The Giant
Scissors," in a single volume.

    =THE LITTLE COLONEL'S HOUSE PARTY=
          (Trade Mark)

    =THE LITTLE COLONEL'S HOLIDAYS=
          (Trade Mark)

    =THE LITTLE COLONEL'S HERO=
          (Trade Mark)

    =THE LITTLE COLONEL AT BOARDING-SCHOOL=
          (Trade Mark)

    =THE LITTLE COLONEL IN ARIZONA=
          (Trade Mark)

    =THE LITTLE COLONEL'S CHRISTMAS VACATION=
          (Trade Mark)

    =THE LITTLE COLONEL, MAID OF HONOR=
          (Trade Mark)

    =THE LITTLE COLONEL'S KNIGHT COMES RIDING=
          (Trade Mark)

    =MARY WARE: THE LITTLE COLONEL'S CHUM=
          (Trade Mark)

    =MARY WARE IN TEXAS=

    =MARY WARE'S PROMISED LAND=

_These twelve volumes, boxed as a set_, $18.00.




SPECIAL HOLIDAY EDITIONS

  _Each small quarto, cloth decorative, per volume_      $1.25


New plates, handsomely illustrated with eight full-page drawings in
color, and many marginal sketches.

    =THE LITTLE COLONEL=
          (Trade Mark)

    =TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY=

    =THE GIANT SCISSORS=

    =BIG BROTHER=




THE JOHNSTON JEWEL SERIES

  _Each small 16mo, cloth decorative, with frontispiece and
      decorative text borders, per volume_                 _Net_ $0.50


=IN THE DESERT OF WAITING:= THE LEGEND OF CAMELBACK MOUNTAIN.


=THE THREE WEAVERS:= A FAIRY TALE FOR FATHERS AND MOTHERS AS WELL AS
FOR THEIR DAUGHTERS.


=KEEPING TRYST:= A TALE OF KING ARTHUR'S TIME.


=THE LEGEND OF THE BLEEDING HEART=


=THE RESCUE OF PRINCESS WINSOME:= A FAIRY PLAY FOR OLD AND YOUNG.


=THE JESTER'S SWORD=

------


=THE LITTLE COLONEL'S GOOD TIMES BOOK=

  Uniform in size with the Little Colonel Series      $1.50
  Bound in white kid (morocco) and gold          _Net_ 3.00

Cover design and decorations by Peter Verberg.

"A mighty attractive volume in which the owner may record the good
times she has on decorated pages, and under the directions as it were
of Annie Fellows Johnston."--_Buffalo Express._


=THE LITTLE COLONEL DOLL BOOK--First Series=

  Quarto, boards, printed in colors      $1.50

A series of "Little Colonel" dolls. Each has several changes of
costume, so they can be appropriately clad for the rehearsal of any
scene or incident in the series.


=THE LITTLE COLONEL DOLL BOOK--Second Series=

  Quarto, boards, printed in colors      $1.50

An artistic series of paper dolls, including not only lovable Mary
Ware, the Little Colonel's chum, but many another of the much loved
characters which appear in the last three volumes of the famous "Little
Colonel Series."


=ASA HOLMES=

By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON.

With a frontispiece by Ernest Fosbery.

  16mo, cloth decorative, gilt top      $1.00

"'Asa Holmes' is the most delightful, most sympathetic and wholesome
book that has been published in a long while."--_Boston Times._


=TRAVELERS FIVE: ALONG LIFE'S HIGHWAY=

By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON.

With an introduction by Bliss Carman, and a frontispiece by E. H.
Garrett.

  12mo, cloth decorative      $1.25

"Mrs. Johnston broadens her reputation with this book so rich in the
significance of common things."--_Boston Advertiser._


=JOEL: A BOY OF GALILEE=

By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON.

  12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated      $1.50

"The book is a very clever handling of the greatest event in the
history of the world."--_Rochester, N. Y., Herald.





THE BOYS' STORY OF THE ARMY SERIES

By FLORENCE KIMBALL RUSSEL


=BORN TO THE BLUE=

  12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated      $1.25

"The story deserves warm commendation and genuine popularity."--_Army
and Navy Register._


=IN WEST POINT GRAY=

  12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated      $1.50

"One of the best books that deals with West Point."--_New York Sun._


=FROM CHEVRONS TO SHOULDER-STRAPS=

  12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated      $1.50

"The life of a cadet at West Point is portrayed very
realistically."--_The Hartford Post, Hartford, Conn._




DOCTOR'S LITTLE GIRL SERIES

By MARION AMES TAGGART

  _Each large 12mo, cloth, illustrated, per volume_,      $1.50


=THE DOCTOR'S LITTLE GIRL=

"A charming story of the ups and downs of the life of a dear little
maid."--_The Churchman._


=SWEET NANCY:= THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF THE DOCTOR'S LITTLE GIRL.

"Just the sort of book to amuse, while its influence cannot but be
elevating."--_New York Sun._


=NANCY, THE DOCTOR'S LITTLE PARTNER=

"The story is sweet and fascinating, such as many girls of wholesome
tastes will enjoy."--_Springfield Union._


=NANCY PORTER'S OPPORTUNITY=

"Nancy shows throughout that she is a splendid young woman, with plenty
of pluck."--_Boston Globe._


=NANCY AND THE COGGS TWINS=

"The story is refreshing."--_New York Sun._

       *       *       *       *       *

Transcriber's Notes:

Punctuation errors repaired.

Page 334, "conquerers" changed to "conquerors" (were world conquerors
in)






End of Project Gutenberg's The Pioneer Boys of the Columbia, by Harrison Adams

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