this.
"It's going to be pretty slow going with all these skins we're carrying," Cruzatte added. Along the way the men had shot several deer and elk and were carrying the skins on their sore backs for the Captain's iron boat.
"I have a solution for that," Captain Lewis said. "We'll build two rafts and let the river do our work for us."
The river worked against us, destroying both rafts minutes after we launched them. We ended up on the opposite shore.
"Told you this place was bad luck," Pryor said. He and the other men began drying out their gear.
"Drouillard and I will scout ahead and see how the route along this side is," Captain Lewis said.
I went with them. The north bank was blanketed with prickly pear and covered with impassable boulders. After half a mile it became clear that the shoreline
could not be followed easily on foot. We returned to the men.
"We'll have to walk north to the prairie, then head back east and parallel the river," Captain Lewis said, removing prickly pear spines from my paw.
"With all these skins?"
"Regretfully, we will have to leave them behind."
That night on the prairie, a hard steady rain drenched us. We sat around a poor fire, shivering, wondering if the sun would ever rise again. This whole area put me on edge, and it wasn't because of the prickly pears or the difficult terrain. Ever since we got here the Captain seemed to have pulled into himself. I had seen him have minor bouts of melancholy along the trail, but the mood he was in now was far worse than before. I hoped he was right about the north branch not being the Missouri. I didn't want to come back this way again.
The next day we rejoined Maria's River farther downriver and slithered our way along a narrow trail above a steep hillside of slick clay. Captain Lewis slipped and nearly plunged a hundred feet into the river, but he managed to stop himself with his espontoon and crawl back up to the top. No sooner was he back on his feet than we heard Private Windsor behind us.
"God, Captain! What shall I do?"
Windsor was spread-eagled on the slippery hillside about fifteen feet below the trail. Captain Lewis was
greatly alarmed at the private's predicament, but he did not show it.
The Captain got as close to the edge as he dared and smiled down at Windsor. "You're doing just fine," he said. "You're in no immediate danger." The statements were baldfaced lies, but Windsor believed both of them. He smiled and seemed relieved. "Take your knife and dig a foothold in the clay for your foot."
Windsor reached down with his knife and began digging the hole. The only thing holding him in place was the Captain's confidence.
"That's it," the Captain said. "Careful, now."
"How's that?" Windsor asked.
"Perfect! Now slip your right moccasin off and stick your bare foot in the hole. That's right. Just drop the moccasin. Now all you have to do is to crawl forward, using your knife to pull yourself up."
Windsor crawled up the slick clay face like a blowfly on a windowpane. When he got within an arm's length of the top, the Captain and Drouillard pulled him up over the edge.
"Guess I got a bit overwrought down there," said Windsor sheepishly. "Sorry, Captain."
"You responded just about right, Private Windsor."
We arrived back at the fork two days late.
"We were just about ready to send a search party out for you," Captain Clark said.
"We had a little trouble." Captain Lewis shook his head and sat down heavily on a buffalo skin. He had not been feeling well since our drenching on the prairie.
"Did you find the Great Falls?" Captain Lewis asked.
Captain Clark shook his head. "I assume you didn't, either."
"No. And the river veers too far to the north to be the Missouri. How does the left branch look?"
"We didn't get very far up it, but I think it's the Missouri."
"And the men?"
"They disagree."
The following morning Captain Lewis, still ill, tried to convince the men that the left branch was the Missouri River. He showed
"It's going to be pretty slow going with all these skins we're carrying," Cruzatte added. Along the way the men had shot several deer and elk and were carrying the skins on their sore backs for the Captain's iron boat.
"I have a solution for that," Captain Lewis said. "We'll build two rafts and let the river do our work for us."
The river worked against us, destroying both rafts minutes after we launched them. We ended up on the opposite shore.
"Told you this place was bad luck," Pryor said. He and the other men began drying out their gear.
"Drouillard and I will scout ahead and see how the route along this side is," Captain Lewis said.
I went with them. The north bank was blanketed with prickly pear and covered with impassable boulders. After half a mile it became clear that the shoreline
could not be followed easily on foot. We returned to the men.
"We'll have to walk north to the prairie, then head back east and parallel the river," Captain Lewis said, removing prickly pear spines from my paw.
"With all these skins?"
"Regretfully, we will have to leave them behind."
That night on the prairie, a hard steady rain drenched us. We sat around a poor fire, shivering, wondering if the sun would ever rise again. This whole area put me on edge, and it wasn't because of the prickly pears or the difficult terrain. Ever since we got here the Captain seemed to have pulled into himself. I had seen him have minor bouts of melancholy along the trail, but the mood he was in now was far worse than before. I hoped he was right about the north branch not being the Missouri. I didn't want to come back this way again.
The next day we rejoined Maria's River farther downriver and slithered our way along a narrow trail above a steep hillside of slick clay. Captain Lewis slipped and nearly plunged a hundred feet into the river, but he managed to stop himself with his espontoon and crawl back up to the top. No sooner was he back on his feet than we heard Private Windsor behind us.
"God, Captain! What shall I do?"
Windsor was spread-eagled on the slippery hillside about fifteen feet below the trail. Captain Lewis was
greatly alarmed at the private's predicament, but he did not show it.
The Captain got as close to the edge as he dared and smiled down at Windsor. "You're doing just fine," he said. "You're in no immediate danger." The statements were baldfaced lies, but Windsor believed both of them. He smiled and seemed relieved. "Take your knife and dig a foothold in the clay for your foot."
Windsor reached down with his knife and began digging the hole. The only thing holding him in place was the Captain's confidence.
"That's it," the Captain said. "Careful, now."
"How's that?" Windsor asked.
"Perfect! Now slip your right moccasin off and stick your bare foot in the hole. That's right. Just drop the moccasin. Now all you have to do is to crawl forward, using your knife to pull yourself up."
Windsor crawled up the slick clay face like a blowfly on a windowpane. When he got within an arm's length of the top, the Captain and Drouillard pulled him up over the edge.
"Guess I got a bit overwrought down there," said Windsor sheepishly. "Sorry, Captain."
"You responded just about right, Private Windsor."
We arrived back at the fork two days late.
"We were just about ready to send a search party out for you," Captain Clark said.
"We had a little trouble." Captain Lewis shook his head and sat down heavily on a buffalo skin. He had not been feeling well since our drenching on the prairie.
"Did you find the Great Falls?" Captain Lewis asked.
Captain Clark shook his head. "I assume you didn't, either."
"No. And the river veers too far to the north to be the Missouri. How does the left branch look?"
"We didn't get very far up it, but I think it's the Missouri."
"And the men?"
"They disagree."
The following morning Captain Lewis, still ill, tried to convince the men that the left branch was the Missouri River. He showed
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