The Captain's Dog (16 page)

The other Shoshones were too busy with Captain Clark to notice this reunion. Jumping Fish led Bird Woman away from the crowd. They took Pomp out of the cradleboard and while they talked, I played with him. I was surprised at how much I had missed him. I let him pull my fur and crawl around after me.

As we were playing, Charbonneau walked up and told Bird Woman that he had been looking for her. "We're ready to parley and we need you to speak Shoshone for us."

"We will talk again when I finish," Bird Woman said to Jumping Fish. "Will you watch my son while I'm gone?"

Everyone was already gathered beneath the awning when Bird Woman arrived with Charbonneau. The
large circle of men stopped talking as she approached and sat down next to her husband with her head lowered. Captain Lewis explained that the words would flow from him in English to Labiche, from Labiche to Charbonneau in French, from Charbonneau to Bird Woman in Hidatsa, and from Bird Woman to the chief in Shoshone.

Bird Woman looked up and saw Cameahwait for the first time. Her eyes got wide and she yelled out, "
Ah-ah-hi! Ah-ah-hi!
" She jumped to her feet and rushed toward the chief. The captains stared at her in complete shock. Before they could stop her, she was in Cameahwait's arms.

For the next few minutes there was a great deal of confusion. Cameahwait and Bird Woman were hugging and crying, and the other Shoshones were on their feet jumping up and down as if they were standing on hot coals.

"What the devil is going on, Mister Charbonneau?" Captain Lewis asked, irritated that the dignity of his parley had been shattered.

"Well..." Charbonneau struggled to explain. "Well ... it seems—"

"Spit it out, man!"

"Chief Cameahwait is my wife's brother!"

"I thought he had been killed in the Hidatsa raid."

"Apparently not," Captain Clark said, grinning.
"And if Cameahwait had any suspicion about our sincerity, this will certainly put an end to it."

Cameahwait continued hugging his sister. Tears flowed down his face and several of the Shoshones were now crying along with him.

After a time things settled down enough for the parley to begin, and they talked until after dark. Every once in a while Bird Woman would be overwhelmed with emotion and begin weeping, but she managed her part of the translation. Cameahwait promised to provide the party with as many horses as they needed. He also said that he would lead us to the trail the Indians used to cross the mountains.

August 18, 1805

Captain Clark rode off this morning with 11 men to scout the river and determine if we can ascend it with our canoes. From what we've heard, this now seems doubtful. The rest of the men are in camp with me, making saddles for the horses and preparing for our push over the mountains.

Cameahwait has promised to take us to the mountains, but not over them, as he has not been that way himself and he must head to the buffalo grounds soon to gather meat for the winter.

Today is my 31st birthday. I fear I have done little with my life to further the happiness of the human race. I view with regret the hours I have spent in indolence, and now wish I had those hours back to spend more wisely. I will endeavor to do better....

Colter shakes his head. "Now, isn't that just like the Captain? He's led us nearly all the way across the country, discovered dozens of new animals and
plants, made friends with hundreds of Indians, and in the process lost only one man. And he thinks he hasn't done anything with his life?"

"It's a puzzlement, all right," Drouillard says. "But I guess that's just the way Captain Lewis is. What's he have to say next?"

August 29, 1805

We are ready for the mountains. We have 29 horses and the word of Old Toby that he will guide us.

The possibility of a Northwest Passage seems to have come to an end with the tremendous mountains we must cross. Captain Clark has returned with the belief that there are no navigable rivers through the mountains, so the primary objective of our journey cannot be fulfilled. This is not a failure on our part, but I am very disappointed, considering the hardships we have endured searching for something that does not exist.

Surprisingly, the men seem little bothered by this. Even Captain Clark does not seem overly concerned His only comment was, "life have solved a 300-year-old mystery. The answer is, there is no Northwest Passage. "He laughed heartily, as if this were the funniest irony he had ever heard.

The only thing that keeps me going and dulls the pain of this disappointment is my concern for the men. I pray the mountains will not take any of them and that there is ample food on the other side.

Old Toby is a frail old man, and I fear that he is not
strong enough for a journey such as this. Fortunately his two sons are with him....

BENEATH OLD TOBY'S
loose wrinkled skin was a core of iron that eventually put all the men to shame, but Captain Lewis was right to worry about our crossing.

The trails through the foothills leading to the mountains were steep and slippery. There was little food. Horses fell and tumbled down deep ravines. In our first few days we lost two horses from exhaustion and another was crippled and had to be shot.

When Old Toby's sons left to rejoin the Shoshones to hunt buffalo, Captain Lewis nearly begged them to stay.

"We cannot," one of them responded through Bird Woman. "We must help with the buffalo."

"You can return as soon as we get to the other side of the mountains."

"Winter may stop them from returning," Old Toby said. "What then?"

"We will pay them generously."

Old Toby shook his head. "My sons and their families cannot eat your gifts. I am too old to hunt. I will not be missed. I will take you over the mountains alone."

September 3, 1805

Two inches of snow on the ground. Sleet filling. Captain Clark shot four pheasants, which we divided among ourselves, along with some corn. Our guide eats virtually nothing. I caught him sharing his portion with my dog....

Colter shakes his head. "That Toby was one tough old cuss."

"He was that."

THAT TOUGH OLD CUSS
saved me from starving. A few handfuls of bird guts would not have gotten me far.

When we moved from the foothills into the mountains, we met up with a group of Flathead Indians who were on their way to join the Shoshones to hunt buffalo. Their chief was named Three Eagles.

"We have been watching your tribe for the past several days," he explained in hand-talk. He pointed to
York. "I thought this man was painted with black paint because you were going to war. But by the casual way your tribe was riding and the fact that you had a woman and child with you, I knew you were not a raiding party. So I decided to greet you as friends."

I'm not sure the captains understood how fortunate we were. Three Eagles had eighty warriors in his camp and could have easily overwhelmed us. Instead they fed us from their meager supply of food and shared information with the captains about what lay on the west side of the mountains.

Captain Lewis tried to trade for food, but Three Eagles's people had none to spare. They did have extra horses, though, and we'd ended up with several of them by the time the Flatheads proceeded downhill and we proceeded up.

That evening the hunters killed only two small birds, which we made into a stew with corn. Divided between so many, the meal was hardly worth the bother of cooking. Once again Old Toby shared his small portion with me.

Each day we encountered steeper terrain, narrower trails, and dropping temperatures. Food became a distant memory.

September 7, 1805

Raining. Cold.

September 9, 1805

Arrived at a stream we are calling Traveler's Rest because that is what we intend to do. Drouillard killed a deer, and another man an elk.

September 10, 1805

Sent the men out hunting. Snow on the ground. Very cold.

Colter looks at Mountain Dog and grins. "This was about the time I first laid eyes on you, Mountain Dog," he signs. "'Course you were just a boy then. You've filled out a mite over the years."

Mountain Dog smiles back. "I ran away from you," he signs.

"Like a jackrabbit."

I was with Colter. We were hunting, but most of the animals had moved down to the plains for the winter, so we were not having any luck.

I SAW WHITE FEATHER
flying through the trees and I barked at him. Colter got excited. "What is it? You on to something, Sea? Let's go get it, boy!"

White Feather led us up a steep hill. Halfway to the top I picked up human scent. Not fresh, but not too old, either.

Colter sensed my interest. "You're on to it now, Sea," he said breathlessly. "Let's get that cuss!"

I hurried ahead. On top of the ridge was a pile of huge round boulders. Sitting cross-legged on the highest boulder was a young boy, maybe fourteen or fifteen years old. And except for the buffalo robe under his bottom, he was stark naked.

The wind was howling up on that ridge, snow blowing everywhere, but that boy looked as cozy as a pup suckling his mother. He had his eyes closed and was quietly singing something in a tongue I had never heard. White Feather was standing right in front of him. I sat below the boulder looking up at them, somehow knowing I had stumbled across something I wasn't supposed to disturb.

Colter slipped on an icy spot just as he topped the ridge, and let out a yell. The boy's head snapped up and his eyes locked on mine for a second or two and he
smiled. But the smile disappeared when he saw Colter coming up behind me.

"What the devil?" Colter said. "I'll be a—"

The boy and the robe were up and gone before Colter could describe what he would be.

We searched for a good hour, but other than the boy's footprints in the snow we could find neither hide nor hair of him.

The boy was not the only Indian we saw that day. On our way back we came across three mounted Indians who seemed even less pleased to see us than the boy had been. Their faces were as taut as their bowstrings-all three of which were pointed right at Colter's heart.

"Flatheads," Colter said.

But I could tell they were from a different tribe altogether.

"Now, don't get riled," Colter said, and gave them his most charming grin, which had absolutely no effect on them. Their forearms began to tremble from the strain of the loaded bows. Colter laid his rifle on the ground. The Indians relaxed their pull but kept their arrows notched.

With very poor hand-talk Colter attempted to explain who he was and what he was doing on the mountain. The Indians didn't catch all of his meaning, but they understood enough to agree to follow us back to Traveler's Rest.

The captains smoked the pipe with the Indians and
learned they were from the Nez Percé tribe, or the Nee-mee-poo as they call themselves, meaning "the people." The Nez Percé explained to the captains they were after a band of Shoshones who had stolen twenty-three of their best horses from their village on the west side of the mountain. Captain Lewis fed them, then asked if they would lead us to their village. He was still doubtful that Old Toby was up to the task.

The Nez Percé braves discussed the possibility among themselves, then signed to Drouillard that they had to pursue the thieves who stole their horses and they could not delay.

"Sorry, Captain," Drouillard said.

"We have to convince at least one of them to take us over, Drouillard! I don't think that Old Toby is up to the task. Ask them again. Tell them we'll give them gifts when we reach their land safely."

Drouillard tried again. Finally one of the braves said he would guide us, but he seemed to agree more out of politeness than desire.

September 11, 1805

No meat taken today. The Nez Percé who agreed yesterday to guide us over the mountains was gone this morning and has not returned, so we are still relying on Old Toby to take us across....

I WAS NOT SURPRISED
the brave had a change of heart. After his friends left he sat around camp looking forlorn and confused. I saw him get up in the middle of the night, load his horse, and leave, making no more noise than a mouse walking on damp moss. I let out a couple of barks when he left, but the men were too cold to crawl out from beneath their blankets and look.

The next day the most difficult part of our journey began. The hillsides were covered with downed trees, snow, and slick ice. I was as cold as I had ever been in my life. The frigid air burned my eyes, the ice froze on my muzzle, and the snow balled up between my toes,
making each step a painful ordeal. As cold and miserable as I was, it was nothing compared to what the men endured. Swathed in blankets and furs, they plodded ahead in hungry silence, knowing if they stopped moving the cold would consume them. On the narrower ledges the men had to get off and lead their terrified mounts across, but the horses still slipped and fell, sometimes all the way to the bottom of the hill. Wearily, the men followed the horses down, picking up spilled gear on the way, catching and repacking the animals, then starting back up again from where they had started. The delays caused the party to string out along the trail for miles. Some of the men didn't arrive in camp until well after dark, when they found the men who had gotten there earlier fast asleep.

September 13, 1805

A few of our horses strayed this morning, causing further delays. Four grouse and one poor deer for dinner. Camped at a hot springs....

I STAYED IN FRONT
of the fray with Old Toby—out of range of the men's foul tempers, which were not improved by their empty bellies. We were the first to arrive at the hot springs, which were something I had never seen before. At first I mistook the steam rising in the cold air for smoke and thought the pools were on fire. I barked in alarm. Old Toby smiled at my apprehension, then took his clothes off, and to my surprise sat down in one of the pools with a satisfied sigh.