The Captain's Dog (9 page)

About this time an Indian dog showed up in camp. I had smelled it following us for several days and hoped it had the sense not to show itself, but its hunger drove it into camp late one evening. It slunk into the firelight and flopped down right in front of me. Poor thing. Bones sticking out, open sores on the skin.

"Look, Seaman has a girlfriend!"

"He could do better than that."

"Followed him all the way from the Mandan village."

She was not a Mandan or Hidatsa dog. She had been out on her own for quite some time.

Drouillard threw her a scrap of beaver meat, but she didn't touch it, fearing I might attack her. I backed away to give her room and she snapped up the meat and
bolted back into the trees. Now that she had gotten a taste of food I knew she would be back, and I hoped she wouldn't suffer the same fate as my prairie wolf.

I had not seen White Feather since the fire on the Mandan prairie. Every time I heard a crow I would run to the sound and was disappointed when I found the cawing came from a common crow.

April 20, 1805

We have been held in camp for several days due to severe winds and I've taken advantage of our stay by making a thorough exploration of this area. I found a dead Indian on a scaffold not far from our camp. Lying next to him were several baskets, his tomahawk, the body of his dog, and his sled. The Indians often sacrifice the animals that have helped them in lift. I explained to Sea that I didn't think this would be necessary in his case if I should pass on, and for a moment I thought he understood what I was talking about.

We have traveled far enough upriver from the Mandan and Hidatsa villages to see the game increase, which is a great relief to all of us. There are a number of dead buffalo along this stretch of river, caught on snags or washed up on shore. They must have fallen through the ice and drowned. Wolves and other animals feast on their soft flesh, and near one of the carcasses we
saw bear tracks bigger than anything I could have imagined...

"
MUST BE ONE OF
those grizzly bears," Captain Clark said. "Look at the size of that track."

We had heard about grizzly bears from the Mandan villagers. The Mandans also called them white bears because when such a bear gets older the tips of its hairs turn lighter. The Indians and the French trappers were scared of them, and it was no wonder. The tracks were huge. Not only this, the bear had dragged that buffalo a good fifteen feet farther up the bank in the soft sand. The idea of an animal that could leave a print that deep and move a buffalo that far made the hair on my back stand straight up. I knew right then that I would not like grizzly bears.

"I don't blame the Indians for being afraid of them," Captain Lewis said. "I wouldn't want to face a bear that size with a bow and arrow. But we will have no trouble with our rifles."

It was whelping time on the prairie. The next morning Captain Clark shot a buffalo. As York gutted and skinned it we watched a pack of wolves pull down a calf that could not keep up with the herd. The calf's mother came back and tried to defend her pup. She stamped
her feet and lowered her head to charge, but this did not frighten the wolves. In fact, the lead wolf jumped right onto her bade. She shook him off, but fear had gotten the better of her and she galloped away and joined the herd without her calf.

That same afternoon, while Captain Lewis and I were returning to camp, a buffalo calf followed us. It wasn't much bigger than I am. I think it would have followed us all the way back to camp, but Captain Lewis started laughing and the sound scared the calf away.

"I believe he thought you were a buffalo calf, Sea," Captain Lewis said. "You're about the right size and shape. Better watch yourself, or one of our men will shoot you."

April 24, 1805

Once again we are stranded in camp because of severe wind. Tomorrow, weather permitting, the boats will proceed on, but regardless of the wind, I plan to lead a few men ahead in search of the Yellowstone River, which should be less than a day's march....

THAT NIGHT
the temperature fell and the wind stopped as if it were frozen in place. At sunrise, when the boats started upriver, it was so cold the water froze to the oars.

The men in our shore party were grateful to be afoot rather than paddling on the cold river, As we rambled we saw hundreds of buffalo and elk who showed virtually no fear of us, even though we passed within yards of them.

"They don't even run, Captain."

"We could kill them with clubs."

"I suspect they haven't seen too many humans," the Captain replied. "They'll learn."

That evening we reached the Yellowstone River. Drouillard shot a buffalo not a hundred feet from our camp. The herd scattered at the sound of his gun. They were learning.

The next day the boats caught up to us. In the evening the captains handed around a dram of whiskey and Cruzatte brought out his fiddle.

I didn't participate in the festivities. Instead I went for a ramble with the Indian dog, who shared my opinion of fiddle music. The cold night was clear and well lit by a full moon. We followed the Yellowstone River for several miles, stopping once in a while to check a smell or mark a bush. The buffalo grazed and grunted on the open plain. Elk and deer were everywhere. Wolves howled, which quickened our blood.

Sometimes I led the way, then I would drop back and let the Indian dog lead. We came to a high bank above the river. The Indian dog stopped and looked down.

Below us a small herd of antelope were swimming across the river. On the other side was a pack of wolves. When the antelope saw the wolves, they allowed the current to take them farther downriver so they wouldn't
come ashore where the wolves were waiting. The wolves were not fooled. They simply followed along on shore, knowing the antelope could not stay in the water forever. Eventually the first antelope stumbled into the shallows and was taken before it left the water. Another was taken farther down. The rest escaped because the pack had what it needed.

I wasn't hungry, but my blood was tingling. I wanted to join in the hunt. I turned to find a path to the river, but to my horror my way was blocked by a grizzly.

It reared up on its hind legs, blotting the moon out with its gigantic head, then bellowed with a ferociousness that turned my legs to hot tallow. For a moment I could not move. How could I have let a gigantic bear sneak up on me? I looked for the Indian dog and caught a glimpse of her tail disappearing over the edge of the cliff. The bear stopped bellowing, and I heard the Indian dog splash into the river below.

The bear came down heavily on his front feet and rushed me. I had only one chance. Just before I jumped I felt the bear's warm breath on my neck. I turned my head as I fell, expecting to see him falling behind me, but instead he was standing on the edge, bellowing in rage.

I hit the ice-cold water and the current dragged me under. When I resurfaced I was a long way from the
bear. I swam to the opposite shore, climbed out, and shook the water out of my fur.

There was a sudden movement to my left, but before I could turn to face it, something rushed from the bushes to my right. Wolves! Four of them. They circled around me cautiously, not sure how much strength I had—it wasn't much after my long swim. One came in from behind. I caught his ear near the base and he yelped as he tore the ear from my grip. But it was only a matter of time before they wore me down. Once again my only hope was the river. Wolves are not fond of water and with so much game around I doubted they would pursue me. I rushed the wolf closest to the river. She crouched with her jaws open to meet my charge, but I jumped right over her and into the water, letting the current take me.

The water was cold and swift—sadly, too cold and too swift for the Indian dog. I washed right past her body, which was caught on a snag, and felt deep sadness that the dance was now over for her.

The wolves ran alongshore, following my progress, but they gave up just as the sun began to rise. I climbed out of the river and followed the shoreline back to our camp.

The men were already up, eating breakfast. Captain Lewis was scratching in the red book while York and Bird Woman fried meat and boiled coffee on his fire.

The Captain looked up (torn the book. "There you are, Sea! I wondered where you had gone off to. Out for an early morning swim?"

A few days later I got my chance to take my first antelope. The men were loading the dugouts. Drouillard and I saw the antelope crossing the river at the same moment. Drouillard reached for his powder horn, but before he could charge his rifle I was in the water and had the antelope in my mouth. I pulled it under the water and held it there until it stopped struggling, then I dragged it up on shore.

"The dog saved you a ball, Drouillard."

"With a dog like that we don't need guns."

"We have our own wolf!"

April 29, 1805

This afternoon I shot a grizzly bear. I think this bear's ferocity is greatly exaggerated....

Colter laughs. "We changed our minds pretty darn quick about that."

Drouillard nods.

CAPTAIN LEWIS,
Drouillard, and I were walking through a thick stand of trees about a mile in from the river. The wind changed direction suddenly, sending the unmistakable scent of grizzly bear to my nose. I started barking.

"Quiet!" Captain Lewis hushed me.

With difficulty I obeyed. He had no idea then what lay in the clearing on the other side of the trees, but he found out soon enough.

"Bears," Drouillard said, pointing.

Two of them, not a hundred paces away. One of the grizzlies stood up on its hind feet and put its nose in the air, trying to figure out what we were. The other bear turned and ran. Drouillard fired at the running bear. Captain Lewis took the standing bear. Drouillard's shot hit home, but the bear didn't even break stride. The Captain's shot hit the standing bear square in the chest. It plopped down on its front feet and charged us.

"Run!" Captain Lewis shouted.

I was halfway back to the river before I realized that Captain Lewis and Drouillard were not with me. I stopped and sniffed the air to see if I could pick up what had happened, but it didn't tell me anything. I proceeded back to the clearing cautiously, not knowing what I would see, and hoping it wouldn't be the grizzly feasting on their mauled corpses. When I broke through the trees I was relieved to see Captain Lewis and Drouillard both on their feet, standing over a dead grizzly. The bear had fallen from his chest wound before he reached the woods.

Captain Lewis was examining the bear's teeth and claws. "Not as formidable as the legend," he commented.

That bear was about one-third the size of the bear I'd encountered along the river.

May 14, 1805

We are making good progress, but as each day passes I am increasingly worried about reaching the Rocky Mountains before the bad weather sets in.

I have started saving elk skins for the iron boat I designed. Although the men have grumbled about carrying the heavy frame all these months, they will be glad once they see how well it works. I look forward to the day we put it together.

I have changed my opinion of grizzly bears. Last week it took ten well-placed balls to kill one of these bears—a truly monstrous beast! And three days ago Private Bratton came into camp saying he had shot a grizzly but was not able to kill it. The bear chased him a considerable distance and it would have caught him if it hadn't been severely wounded. I sent seven men out to kill this bear, and after two shots through the skull the bear finally died. It had covered a distance of over a mile
after
Bratton had shot it through the
lungs. I think I would rather fight two Indians with my bare hands than one of these bears.

I have ordered the men walking alongshore to do so in twos and threes to better protect them from these beasts, but had I seen a grizzly this evening I would readily have fed Charbonneau to it. He is the most incompetent boatman I have ever seen and today he very nearly lost our most precious possessions....

WHEN THE TROUBLE
began the captains were both on shore watching the men paddle the boats upriver. The wind filled the sails, but it was still a hard pull against the fast current. Suddenly a squall came up, turning the white pirogue sideways. The pirogue heeled over and began to fill with water.

"Turn into the current!" Captain Lewis shouted. "Turn into the current!"

The men aboard could not hear him above the sound of the water and their own shouting. Both captains fired their rifles, trying to get the crew's attention, which had no effect. Charbonneau, who was manning the rudder, let go, looked up at the sky, and yelled, "Dear god, have mercy on my soul!"

"Our journals!" Captain Lewis shouted. "Our maps!" He dropped his rifle and began stripping.

The current was too treacherous even for me, and I
was a better swimmer than all the men put together. I barked at him, but he paid no attention. Captain Clark saw the danger, too. He threw his arms around Captain Lewis and shouted, "No, Meriwether!"

"But our supplies!"

"They're useless if you drown."

"We'll lose everything!" Captain Lewis said helplessly.

Just then Cruzatte, who was in the bow of the boat, pointed his rifle at Charbonneau and shouted, "If you don't grab that rudder and swing us back into the current, I'll blow your blame head off!"

Charbonneau, more frightened of a musket ball than of drowning, retook the rudder, and the bow swung back into the current. But by this time the boat was filled with water to the top of the gunwale, looking a great deal like a floating bathtub.

After several minutes of frantic bailing, the crew managed to paddle the leaden boat to shore, where all but Charbonneau jumped out and helped the captains secure the bow before the current caught it again.