part ii
chapter i
under one flag
what do you bring, oh, mighty river—and what tidings do you carry from the great mountains yonder in the unknown lands? in what region grew this great pine which swims with you to the sea? what fat lands reared this heavy trunk, which sinks at last, to be buried in the sands?
what jewels lie under your flood? what rich minerals float impalpably in your tawny waters? across what wide prairies did you come—among what hills—through what vast forests? how long, great river, was your journey, sufficient to afford so tremendous a gathering of the waters?
a hundred years ago the great missouri made no answer to these questions. it was open highway only for those who dared. the man who asked its secrets must read them for himself. what a time and place for adventure! what a time and place for men!
from sea to sea, across an unknown, fabled mountain range, lay our wilderness, now swiftly trebled by a miracle in statecraft. the flag which floated over the last stockade of spain, the furthest outpost of france, now was advancing step by step, inch by inch, [pg 168]up the giant flood of the missouri, borne on the flagship of a flotilla consisting of one flatboat and two skiffs, carrying an army whose guns were one swivel piece and thirty rifles.
not without toil and danger was this enterprise to advance. when at length the last smoke of a settler’s cabin had died away over the lowland forest, the great river began in earnest to exact its toll.
continually the boats, heavily laden as they were, ran upon shifting bars of sand, or made long détours to avoid some chevaux de frise of white-headed snags sunk in the current with giant uptossing limbs. floating trees came down resistlessly on the spring rise, demanding that all craft should beware of them; caving banks, in turn, warned the boats to keep off; and always the mad current of the stream, never relaxing in vehemence, laid on the laboring boats the added weight of its mountain of waters, gaining in volume for nearly three thousand miles.
the square sail at times aided the great bateau when the wind came upstream, but no sail could serve for long on so tortuous a water. the great oars, twenty-two in all, did their work in lusty hands, hour after hour, but sometimes they could hardly hold the boats against the power of the june rise. the setting poles could not always find good bottom, but sometimes the men used these in the old keel boat fashion, traveling along the walking-boards on the sides of the craft, head down, bowed over the setting-poles—the same manner of locomotion that had conquered the mississippi.
when sail and oar and setting-pole proved unavailing, [pg 169]the men were out and overboard, running the banks with the cordelle. as they labored thus on the line, like so many yoked cattle, using each ounce of weight and straining muscle to hold the heavy boat against the current, snags would catch the line, stumps would foul it, trees growing close to the bank’s edge would arrest it. sometimes the great boat, swung sidewise in the current in spite of the last art of the steersmen, would tauten the line like a tense fiddle-string, flipping the men, like so many insects, from their footing, and casting them into the river, to emerge as best they might.
cruzatte, labiche, drouillard—all the french voyageurs—with the infinite french patience smiled and sweated their way through. the new englanders grew grim; the kentuckians fumed and swore. but little by little, inch by inch, creeping, creeping, paying the toll exacted, they went on day by day, leaving the old world behind them, morning by morning advancing farther into the new.
the sun blistered them by day; clouds of pests tormented them by night; miasmatic lowlands threatened them both night and day. but they went on.
the immensity of the river itself was an appalling thing; its bends swept miles long in giant arcs. but bend after bend they spanned, bar after bar they skirted, bank after bank they conquered—and went on. in the water as much as out of it, drenched, baked, gaunt, ragged, grim, they paid the toll.
a month passed, and more. the hunters exulted that game was so easy to get, for they must depend [pg 170]in large part on the game killed by the way. at the mouth of the kansas river, near where a great city one day was to stand, they halted on the twenty-sixth of june. deer, turkeys, bear, geese, many “goslins,” as quaint will clark called them, rewarded their quest.
july came and well-nigh passed. they reached the mouth of the great platte river, far out into the indian country. over this unmapped country ranged the otoes, the omahas, the pawnees, the kansas, the osages, the rees, the sioux. this was the buffalo range where the tribes had fought immemorially.
it was part of the mission of captain lewis’s little army to carry peace among these warring tribes. the nature of the expedition was explained to their chiefs. at the great council bluffs many of the otoes came and promised to lay down the hatchet and cease to make war against the omahas. the omahas, in turn, swore allegiance to the new flag.
on ahead somewhere lay the powerful sioux nation, doubt and dread of all the traders who had ever passed up the missouri. dorion, the interpreter, married among them, admitted that even he could not tell what the sioux might do.
the expedition struck camp at last, high up on the great river, in the country of the yanktonnais. the sioux long had marked its coming, and were ready for its landing. their signal fires called in the villages to meet the boats of the white men.
they came riding down in bands, whooping and shouting, painted and half naked, well armed—splendid savages, fearing no man, proud, capricious, blood-thirsty. [pg 171]they were curious as to the errand of these new men who came carrying a new flag—these men who could make the thunder speak. for now the heavy piece on the bow of the great barge spoke in no uncertain terms so that its echoes ran back along the river shores. no such boat, no such gun as this, had ever been seen in that country before.
“tell them to make a council, dorion,” said lewis. “take this officer’s coat to their head man. tell him that the great father sends it to him. give him this hat with lace on it. tell him that when we are ready we may come to their council to meet their chiefs. say that only their real chiefs must come, for we will not treat with any but their head men. if they wish to see us soon, let them come to our village here.”
“you are chiefs!” said dorion. “have i not seen it? i will tell them so.”
but dorion had been gone but a short time when he came hurrying back from the indian village.
“the runners say plenty buffalo close by,” he reported. “the chief, she’ll call the people to hunt the buffalo.”
william clark turned to his companion.
“you hear that, merne?” said he. “why should we not go also?”
“agreed!” said meriwether lewis. “but stay, i have a thought. we will go as they go and hunt as they do. to impress an indian, beat him at his own game. you and i must ride this day, will!”
“yes, and without saddles, too! very well, i learned that of my brother, who learned it of the indians [pg 172]themselves. and i know you and i both can shoot the bow as well as most indians—that was part of our early education. i might better have been in school sometimes, when i was learning the bow.”
“dorion,” said lewis to the interpreter, “go back to the village and tell their chief to send two bows with plenty of arrows. tell them that we scorn to waste any powder on so small a game as the buffalo. on ahead are animals each one of which is as big as twenty buffalo—we keep our great gun for those. as for buffalo, we kill them as the indians do, with the bow and with the spear. we shall want the stiffest bows, with sinewed backs. our arms are very strong.”
swift and wide spread the word among the sioux that the white chiefs would run the buffalo with their own warriors. exclamations of amusement, surprise, satisfaction, were heard. the white men should see how the sioux could ride. but weucha, the head man, sent a messenger with two bows and plenty of arrows—short, keen-pointed arrows, suitable for the buffalo hunt, when driven by the stiff bows of the sioux.
“strip, will,” said meriwether lewis. “if we ride as savages, it must be in full keeping.”
they did strip to the waist, as the savages always did when running the buffalo—sternest of all savage sport or labor, and one of the boldest games ever played by man, red or white. clad only in leggings and moccasins, their long hair tied in firm cues, when weucha met them he exclaimed in admiration. the village turned out in wonder to see these two men [pg 173]whose skins were white, whose hair was not black, but some strange new color—one whose hair was red.
the two young officers were not content with this. york, captain clark’s servant, rolling his eyes, showing his white teeth, was ordered to strip up the sleeve of his shirt to show that his hide was neither red nor white, but black—another wonder in that land!
“now, york, you rascal,” commanded william clark, “do as i tell you!”
“yessah, massa captain, i suttinly will!”
“when i raise this flag, do you drop on the ground and knock your forehead three times. groan loud—groan as if you had religion, york! do you understand?”
“yassah, massa captain!”
york grinned his enjoyment; and when he had duly executed the maneuver, the sioux greeted the white men with much acclamation.
“i see that you are chiefs!” exclaimed weucha. “you have many colors, and your medicine is strong. take, then, these two horses of mine—they are good runners for buffalo—perhaps yours are not so fast.” thus dorion interpreted.
“now,” said clark, “suppose i take the lance, merne, and you handle the bow. i never have tried the trick, but i believe i can handle this tool.”
he picked up and shook in his hand the short lance, steel-tipped, which weucha was carrying. the latter grinned and nodded his assent, handing the weapon to the red-haired leader.
“now we shall serve!” said lewis an instant later; [pg 174]for they brought out two handsome horses, one coal-black, the other piebald, both mettlesome and high-strung.
that the young men were riders they now proved, for they mounted alone, barebacked, and managed to control their mounts with nothing but the twisted hide rope about the lower jaw—the only bridle known among the tribes of the great plains.
the crier now passed down the village street, marshaling all the riders for the chase. weucha gave the signal to advance, himself riding at the head of the cavalcade, with the two white captains at his side—a picture such as any painter might have envied.
others of the expedition followed on as might be—shannon, gass, the two fields boys, others of the better hunters of the kentuckians. even york, not to be denied, sneaked in at the rear. they all rode quietly at first, with no outcry, no sound save the steady tramp of the horses.
their course was laid back into the prairie for a mile or two before a halt was called. then the chief disposed his forces. the herd was supposed to be not far away, beyond a low rim of hills. on this side the men were ranged in line. a blanket waved from a point visible to all was to be the signal for the charge.
dorion, also stripped to the waist, a kerchief bound about his head, carrying a short carbine against his thigh, now rode alongside.
“he say weucha show you how sioux can ride,” he interpreted.
[pg 175]
“tell him it is good, dorion,” rejoined lewis. “we will show him also that we can ride!”
a shout came from the far edge of the restless ranks. a half-naked rider waved a blanket. with shrill shouts the entire line broke at top speed for the ridge.
neither of the two young americans had ever engaged in the sport of running the buffalo; yet now the excitement of the scene caused both to forget all else. they urged on their horses, mingling with the savage riders.
the buffalo had been feeding less than a quarter of a mile away; the wind was favorable, and they had not yet got scent of the approach; but now, as the line of horsemen broke across the crest, the herd streamed out and away from them—crude, huge, formless creatures, with shaggy heads held low, their vast bulk making them seem almost like prehistoric things. the dust of their going arose in a blinding cloud, the thunder of their hoofs left inaudible even the shrill cries of the riding warriors as they closed in.
the chase passed outward into an open plain, which lay white in alkali. in a few moments the swift horses had carried the best of the riders deep into the dust-cloud which arose. each man followed some chosen animal, doing his best to keep it in sight as the herd plowed onward in the biting dust.
here and there the vast, solid surface of a sea of rolling backs could be glimpsed; again an opening into it might be seen close at hand. it was bold work, and any who engaged in it took his chances.
lewis found his horse, the black runner that weucha [pg 176]had given him, as swift as the best, and able to lay him promptly alongside his quarry. at a distance of a few feet he drew back the sinewy string of the tough sioux bow, gripping his horse with his knees, swaying his body out to the bow, as he well knew how. the shaft, discharged at a distance of but half a dozen feet, sank home with a soft zut. the stricken animal swerved quickly toward him, but his wary horse leaped aside and went on. such as the work had been, it was done for that buffalo at least, and lewis knew that he had caught the trick.
the black runner singled out another and yet another; and again and again lewis shot—until at last, his arrows nearly exhausted, after two or three miles of mad speed, he pulled out of the herd and waited.
in the white dust-cloud, lifted now and then, he could see naked forms swaying, bending forward, plying their weapons. somewhere in the midst of it, out in the ruck of hoof and horn, his friend was riding, forgetting all else but the excitement of the chase. what if accident had befallen either of them? lewis could not avoid asking himself that question.
now the riders edged through the herd, outward, around its flank—turned it, were crowding it back, milling and confused. out of the dust emerged two figures, naked, leaning forward to the leaping of their horses. one was an indian, his black locks flowing, his eyes gleaming, his hand flogging his horse as he rode. the other was a white man, his tall white body splashed with blood, his long red hair, broken from his cue, on his shoulders.
[pg 177]
the two were pursuing the same animal—a young bull, which thus far had kept his distance some fifty yards or so ahead. but as lewis looked, both riders urged their horses to yet more speed. the piebald of william clark, well ridden, sprang away in advance and laid him alongside of the quarry. lewis himself saw the poised spear—saw it plunge—saw the buffalo stumble in its stride—and saw his companion pass on, whooping in exultation at weucha, who came up an instant later, defeated, but grinning and offering his hand. now came dorion also, out of ammunition, yet not out of speech, excited, jabbering as usual.
“four nice cow i’ll kill!” gabbled he. “i’ll kill him four tam, bang, bang! plenty meat for my lodge now. how many you’ll shot, captain?” he asked of lewis.
“plenty—you will find them back there.”
weucha, who came up after magnanimously shaking the hand of william clark, peered with curiosity into lewis’s almost empty quiver. he smiled again, for that the white men had ridden well was obvious enough. he called a young man to him, showed him the arrow-mark, and sent him back to see how many of the dead buffalo showed arrows with similar marks.
in time the messenger came back carrying a sheaf of arrows. grinning, he held up the fingers of two hands.
“tell him that is nothing, dorion,” said lewis. “we could have killed many more if we had wished. we see that the sioux can ride. now, let us see if they can talk at the council fire!”
the two leaders hastened to their own encampment [pg 178]to remove all traces of the hunt. an hour later they emerged from their tents clad as officers of the army, each in cocked hat and full uniform, with sword at side.
with the fall of the sun, the drums sounded in the indian village. the criers passed along the street summoning the people to the feast, summoning also the chiefs to the council lodge. here the head men of the village gathered, sitting about the little fire, the peace pipe resting on a forked stick before them, waiting for the arrival of the white chiefs—who could make the thunder come, who could make a strong chief of black skin beat his head upon the ground; and who, moreover, could ride stripped and strike the buffalo even as the sioux.
the white leaders were in no haste to show themselves. they demanded the full dignity of their station; but they came at last, their own drum beating as they marched at the head of their men, all of whom were in the uniform of the frontier.
york, selected as standard-bearer, bore the flag at the head of the little band. meriwether lewis took it from him as they reached the door of the council lodge, and thrust the staff into the soil, so that it stood erect beside the lance and shield of weucha, chief of the yanktonnais. then, leaving their own men on guard without, the two white chiefs stepped into the lodge, and, with not too much attention to the chiefs sitting and waiting for them, took their own places in the seat of honor. they removed their hats, shook free their hair—which had been loosened from the cues; and so, [pg 179]in dignified silence, not looking about them, they sat, their long locks spread out on their shoulders.
exclamations of excitement broke even from the dignified sioux chiefs. clearly the appearance and the conduct of the two officers had made a good impression. the circle eyed them with respect.
at length meriwether lewis, holding in his hand the great peace pipe that he had brought, arose.
“weucha,” said he, dorion interpreting for him, “you are head man of the yanktonnais. i offer you this pipe. let us smoke. we are at peace. we are children of the great father, and i do not bring war. i have put a flag outside the lodge. it is your flag. you must keep it. each night you must take it down, roll it up, and put it in a parfleche, so that it will not be torn or soiled. whenever you have a great feast, or meet other peoples, let it fly at your door. it is because you are a chief that i give you this flag. i gave one to the omahas, another to the otoes. let there be no more war between you. you are under one flag now.
“i give you this medal, weucha, this picture on white iron. see, it has the picture of the great father himself, my chief, who lives where the sun rises. i also give you this writing, where i have made my sign, and where the red-headed chief, my brother, has made his sign. keep these things, so that any who come here may know that you are our friends, that you are the children of the great father.
“weucha, they told us that the sioux were bad in heart, that you would say we could not go up the river. our great father has sent us up the river, and we must [pg 180]go. tomorrow our boats must be on their course. if the great father has such medicine as this i give you, do you think we could go back to him and say the sioux would not let us pass? you have seen that we are not afraid, that we are chiefs—we can do what you can do. can you do what we can? can you make the thunder come? is there any among you who has a black skin, like the man with us? are any of your men able to strike the eye of a deer, the head of a grouse, at fifty paces with the rifle? all of my men can do that.
“i give you these presents—these lace coats for your great men, these hats also, such as we wear, because you are our brothers, and are chiefs. a little powder, a few balls, i give you, because we think you want them. i give you a little tobacco for your pipes. if my words sound good in your ears, i will send a talking paper to the great father, and tell him that you are his children.”
deep-throated exclamations of approval met this speech. weucha took the pipe. he arose himself, a tall and powerful man, splendidly clad in savage fashion, and spoke as the born leader that he also was. he pledged the loyalty of the sioux and the freedom of the river.
“i give you the horse you rode this morning,” said weucha to lewis, “the black runner. to you, red-haired chief, i give the white-and-black horse that you rode. it is well that chiefs like you should have good horses.
“tomorrow our people will go a little way with you [pg 181]up the river. we want you for our friends, for we know your medicine is strong. we know that when we show this flag to other tribes—to the otoes, the omahas, the osages—they will fall on the ground and knock their heads on the ground, as the black man did when the red-headed chief raised it above him.
“the great father has sent us two chiefs who are young but very wise. they can strike the buffalo. they can speak at the council. weucha, the yanktonnais, says that they may go on. we know you will not lose the trail. we know that you will come back. you are chiefs!”
