attachment and that they would always give them every assistance in their powers; that they were poor, but their hearts were good. I think we can justly affirm, to the honor of this people, that they are the most hospitable, honest and sincere people that we have met with in our voyage.”
Still, the chiefs would not commit to sending guides with the expedition across the mountains. Since there was no setting out until the snow melted in the high passes, the captains decided to move their camp to the banks of the Clearwater River, where the hunting was better, the horses had plenty of grazing, and there was hope of netting fresh salmon once the fish started running. Their only real problem was William Bratton, who was in no condition to journey over the Divide. Wracked by extreme lower back pain, Bratton rode horseback while the other men walked and led the pack horses.
John Shields observed that he “had seen men in a similar situation restored by violent sweats,” and Bratton, desperate for a cure, agreed to the treatment.
Shields dug a pit four feet deep, lined it with rocks, and built a fire on top. When the rocks were hot enough, he removed the fire and rigged a seat across the hole and lowered the naked Bratton onto it. Bratton then poured water onto the rocks to make as much steam as he could bear. After twenty minutes, the patient was “taken out and suddonly plunged in cold water twise and was then immediately returned to the sweat hole.” He stewed for another forty-five minutes, drinking copious amounts of mint tea, before he was taken out, wrapped in blankets, and “suffered to cool gradually.” The next day, Bratton was almost free from pain.
The Nez Percé begged Clark, “their favorite phisician,” for medical aid. Bratton’s recovery was so remarkable that the captains decided to give the same treatment to one of the most hopeless Indian cases, a chief whose limbs had been paralyzed for three years. The chief’s father volunteered to hold the helpless man upright in the hole and endured the steam bath along with his son. The next day, the chief was able to move his arms; a day later, he could wash his face. After another steaming, he could move one of his legs, and in the next few days, he recovered the use of all his limbs.
Late in May, Sacagawea’s son, Pompy, who had survived one hardship after another in his fifteen months, had bad teething troubles. His face swelled dangerously, and he was running a high fever, with an abscess behind his ear. In spite of poultices of wild onion and doses of “cream of tarter &c.,” the little boy grew worse, and the captains made several worried entries in their journals before he began to recover.
Game and fish remained scarce. “Patience, patience,” Lewis wrote. Daily, he watched the river for signs of melted snows of “that icy barier which seperates me from my friends and Country, from all which makes life esteemable.”
Meanwhile, the explorers passed the time, seeking distractions from the long journey ahead. They taught the Indians a game called “base,” a precursor to baseball. “Several foot races were run this evening between the indians and our men,” Lewis noted on June 8. “. . . When the racing was over the men divided themselves into two parties and played prison base, by way of exercise which we wish the men to take previously to entering the mountains. In short, those who are not hunters have had so little to do that they are getting reather lazy and slouthfull. After dark, we had the violin played and danced for the amusement of ourselves and the Indians.”
Although the Nez Percé were friendly, they were reluctant to guide the Americans over the Rockies for fear of being attacked by the Blackfeet and Minnetarees, who tyrannized the tribes to the east. Unwilling to wait any longer, the party set out on June 10 to find its own way over the Bitterroot Mountains. But once they reached the high country, they found the snow
Still, the chiefs would not commit to sending guides with the expedition across the mountains. Since there was no setting out until the snow melted in the high passes, the captains decided to move their camp to the banks of the Clearwater River, where the hunting was better, the horses had plenty of grazing, and there was hope of netting fresh salmon once the fish started running. Their only real problem was William Bratton, who was in no condition to journey over the Divide. Wracked by extreme lower back pain, Bratton rode horseback while the other men walked and led the pack horses.
John Shields observed that he “had seen men in a similar situation restored by violent sweats,” and Bratton, desperate for a cure, agreed to the treatment.
Shields dug a pit four feet deep, lined it with rocks, and built a fire on top. When the rocks were hot enough, he removed the fire and rigged a seat across the hole and lowered the naked Bratton onto it. Bratton then poured water onto the rocks to make as much steam as he could bear. After twenty minutes, the patient was “taken out and suddonly plunged in cold water twise and was then immediately returned to the sweat hole.” He stewed for another forty-five minutes, drinking copious amounts of mint tea, before he was taken out, wrapped in blankets, and “suffered to cool gradually.” The next day, Bratton was almost free from pain.
The Nez Percé begged Clark, “their favorite phisician,” for medical aid. Bratton’s recovery was so remarkable that the captains decided to give the same treatment to one of the most hopeless Indian cases, a chief whose limbs had been paralyzed for three years. The chief’s father volunteered to hold the helpless man upright in the hole and endured the steam bath along with his son. The next day, the chief was able to move his arms; a day later, he could wash his face. After another steaming, he could move one of his legs, and in the next few days, he recovered the use of all his limbs.
Late in May, Sacagawea’s son, Pompy, who had survived one hardship after another in his fifteen months, had bad teething troubles. His face swelled dangerously, and he was running a high fever, with an abscess behind his ear. In spite of poultices of wild onion and doses of “cream of tarter &c.,” the little boy grew worse, and the captains made several worried entries in their journals before he began to recover.
Game and fish remained scarce. “Patience, patience,” Lewis wrote. Daily, he watched the river for signs of melted snows of “that icy barier which seperates me from my friends and Country, from all which makes life esteemable.”
Meanwhile, the explorers passed the time, seeking distractions from the long journey ahead. They taught the Indians a game called “base,” a precursor to baseball. “Several foot races were run this evening between the indians and our men,” Lewis noted on June 8. “. . . When the racing was over the men divided themselves into two parties and played prison base, by way of exercise which we wish the men to take previously to entering the mountains. In short, those who are not hunters have had so little to do that they are getting reather lazy and slouthfull. After dark, we had the violin played and danced for the amusement of ourselves and the Indians.”
Although the Nez Percé were friendly, they were reluctant to guide the Americans over the Rockies for fear of being attacked by the Blackfeet and Minnetarees, who tyrannized the tribes to the east. Unwilling to wait any longer, the party set out on June 10 to find its own way over the Bitterroot Mountains. But once they reached the high country, they found the snow
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