Streams to the River, River to the Sea

by Scott O'Dell

  Chapter Twenty-five

  The chief of the Clatsops and his wives came to the fort a few days later with jugs of elk fat. He asked double what they were worth—a string of the precious blue beads.

  He was sent away but in a week he returned. This time his wives brought five canoes. The canoes were so light that the women carried them in one hand. For these he asked three strings of the blue beads and also Captain Clark's deerskin pants.

  The captain did not mind trading his pants for canoes that would be helpful on the many portages to the Shining Mountains and across them to the Missouri and Fort Mandan. But three strings of blue beads were too much to pay. Besides, he had only one string of the blue beads left.

  "By chance," he said to me, "do you have any blue beads hidden away somewhere? A canoe that's so light one person can carry it would be a big help on the way back to Fort Mandan."

  I felt disappointed that we were getting ready to leave. I still wondered why we had come so far and everyone had struggled and suffered so much, just to turn around and go back so soon.

  More than this, I wondered about Fort Mandan. What would happen to me when we got there?

  "If you have a few beads, just a few, I can make a bargain," Captain Clark said.

  "I have white beads."

  "No blue ones?"

  "None."

  "Perhaps you have another belt like the one you gave me, the one we traded for the otterskin robe?"

  I said nothing. I had not given him the belt. He had taken it from me. We had not traded the belt, he had traded the belt. Firelight was shining in my face. He must have seen my tears. He must know that the hurt I felt when he traded my belt away was still in my heart.

  "I know you hated to make the trade," he said.

  "You gave the belt to me," I said. "It was mine."

  "I know, I know, but otter is the most beautiful fur in the world. And these were the most beautiful pelts I had ever seen, so beautiful they reminded me of a story I heard once. Would you like to hear it?"

  I was silent, just to let him know that I did not care what he said.

  He told the story anyway. "Far on the other side of the world," he said, "high in the mountains, in a place called Tibet, the women make wonderful shawls. These shawls are made of shatoosh, which looks like wool. It seems just like wool until you touch it. Then you feel as if you were putting your hand in a cloud."

  I remembered how I had gasped when the chieftain held the furs up to the sun. How I had wanted to put them around my shoulders! But I had prized the belt much more because he had given it to me.

  "Shatoosh comes from the wool of the wild goats that roam the peaks," Captain Clark went on, "goats like the white-tailed antelope you know about. These Tibetan goats are not shorn. Women and children collect the wool from thorns and trees and stony ledges where the goats have snagged themselves. From these hairs they weave shawls so fine that they can be pulled through a loop as small as the ring on my finger."

  He held his hand out to show me his ring. It had a blue stone that was shaped like a heart. I had seen stones like it before. They came from people far to the south who call themselves Navajos.

  Captain Clark took the ring off and told me to put my hand out. He put the ring on my finger.

  "The ring is not so beautiful as the belt of blue beads," he said, kissing the finger that had the ring on it. "But always when you look at the ring, it will remind you of our journey together."

  I could not wear the ring in front of Charbonneau, so when he came back from a game boasting that he had won a knife with an ivory handle, I hid it away.

  The Clatsop chief returned in the morning with his many wives. They had a big black canoe instead of the five light ones, which he would sell for beads of any color, also an ax, two knives, ten fishhooks—half big, half small—and our air gun.

  The canoe had fine carvings at its stern and bow and could carry a heavy load. Captain Clark wanted it badly, but the gun belonged to Captain Lewis, who would not part with it.

  "Knives, ax, hooks, beads," Captain Clark said. "No more."

  "Muckamuck," the chieftain said. "Nothing."

  "Your black canoe leaks," Captain Clark said. "There's a hole in it somewhere."

  "Gun has no powder," the chieftain said.

  Captain Clark thought. Then he went off and came back with a gun. He filled it with powder, twice as much as usual, and gave it to the chieftain. The chieftain had porcupine quills braided in his hair. When he pressed the trigger, there was a great shaking and the quills flew out in all directions.

  He liked the noise so much that he forgot about the air gun, handed over the black canoe, and made us a gift of some old elk tallow.

  We were pleased with the gift. I boiled the tallow and spent the rest of the day making candles. By nightfall I had poured more than fifty, fat and two hands tall.

  During the winter we had been busy dressing deerskins. There was a good supply of clothes for all our men as well as dozens of good moccasins, enough to last until we reached Fort Mandan.

  We also collected roots and smoked as much meat as we could spare, knowing that the salmon fish would not come up the river to lay their eggs until weeks after we started. This meant that the tribes from here to the big mountains were hungry and we could expect to buy little food from them.

  Our big problem was the lack of things to trade for dogs and horses. We had six blue robes, one scarlet robe, five robes made of a red, white, and blue flag, and a few tattered clothes trimmed with ribbon. That was all we had left. We had no beads of any color to trade with.

  Soon after we started up the river we came to a village of Neerchokioos. Here the lack of trading goods led to our first trouble. The Neerchokioos had a supply of roots but did not like any of the things Captain Clark offered them.

  They were a sullen, unfriendly lot and we thought that they might attack us. Captain Clark solved the problem.

  He sat down by the fire in front of the chieftain and his warriors. He threw some powder into the fire, took out a pocket compass, and with his magnet made the needle turn round and round. The fire flared up violently and cast a strange red glow.

  Women screamed. Children ran to their beds and covered themselves with hides. The chieftain tried to look brave but jumped up, laid a big packet of wappatoo roots at Captain Clark's feet, and begged the captain to kill the monster fire.

  On the river soon afterward, a Wahcellah chieftain and six of his men appeared in camp at dusk. He admired Scannon. He walked around eyeing him. He had never seen a dog as big as a buffalo.

  He sent four of his men away and they came back with four beautiful beaver skins, which he offered to trade for the dog. Captain Lewis thought a while but refused the trade.

  The chieftain was angry. Early the next morning, while the camp was asleep, he stole in with his men and lured Scannon away, possibly with a fish, since this was Scannon's favorite food.

  The thieves had not gone far before we discovered that the dog was missing. The camp was in a fury. Scannon was more than a pet. He had saved us from prowling bears and a buffalo that stampeded us. He had caught birds and squrrels for Captain Lewis's dinner. He was our hero.

  We were camped in a forest in rough country where horses had to pick their way. York ran fast, so Captain Clark sent him out on foot with three horsemen to follow their tracks and bring the dog back.

  Men stopped eating, picked up their rifles, and got ready to pursue the thieves if York and the horsemen failed. We waited for a long time. We did not know what would happen.

  But things turned out well. York overtook the thieves and came back, riding an Indian horse, followed by Scannon and two of the Wahcellahs' dogs.

  "The thieves," York said, "six or seven of them, were standing out in front of a big tipi, feeding Scannon strips of buffalo meat. I let out a war whoop and waved my tomahawk. For a moment they stared at me, their faces pale as a fish's belly. The next moment, before I could whoop again, they were gone.
Vanished as if they had never been."

  We had no better treatment farther along the river. At supper, when we invited the Weocksockwillacums, one of their young braves became angry at Captain Lewis for eating a piece of roasted dog. The Weocksockwillacums did not eat dog, so the young man showed his disgust by tossing a puppy into the captain's plate. The captain seized the puppy and threw it back.

  None of these first villages was as friendly as they had been when we went down the river. Captain Lewis thought it was because we were out of trading goods. Captain Clark thought the people were unfriendly because they had endured a long winter and were hungry. Charbonneau thought both of them were wrong.

  "They fear white mens because gods speak," Charbonneau said. "Gods tell them, 'Look out, Indian. White mens take fish, horses, land, water. Everything. In eye-wink, gone. Goodbye!'"

  Not until we came upon the Skilloots did we fare any better. The whole village was wild with joy. They had caught a salmon that day, the first of the spring, a silver-scaled, pink-fleshed fish as long as my arm.

  They knew from finding the salmon that vast schools were coming. To bring them soon, the people cleaned the fish, cut it into small pieces, and gave a piece to each child in the village. Because of their great joy, Captain Clark was able to get six dogs from the Skilloots.

  He tried to be friendly with all of the people we passed on our way up the river. He waved to them, cupped his hands, and shouted to them in whatever words came to his mind. He waved whether they waved or not.

  Whenever we came to a village where there were sick people, he did his best to heal them. He was very good with his medicines and very patient with everyone, old and young alike. He was pleased when someone who had been sick for weeks got well in a day or two.

  He worked over Meeko when the baby was deathly sick.

  Meeko had left Fort Clatsop with a bad cold that he caught from the rain. He was almost over the cold when he got a bad place under his ear. The place turned red and swelled out. Meeko burned with fever. Everyone thought he was going to die, everyone except Captain Clark.

  He made a sling so I could carry Meeko around my shoulder and watch him better than if he was in the cradle-board.

  He made a poultice of wild onions and put it on the swelling. When it did no good, he gave the baby a white powder mixed in water. When this did no good, he tried a salve of beeswax and resin, pitch and bear's oil.

  I was too worried to eat, but he forced me to.

  Charbonneau was worried also. He made a bandage of beaver fur and elk grease, which the captain would not let him use. Sometimes Captain Clark cradled the baby in his arms and sang to him.

  I think it was his singing that got Meeko well.

  I watched him save the baby. I had heard him joke with the men, those who waded over the sharp stones in the icy water. In the bad places I had seen him tie a cord around his waist and help the men pull the heavy canoes. I had watched him sweat in the sun and douse his head in the water to cool himself off. I had watched him comb his red hair dry so that it shone like copper.

  When Meeko got well again, I watched him toss the baby high and speak silly words. Seeing them together was my life.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  We came to the Shining Mountains. Behind us were the Columbia River and the sea. Ahead of us were the Yellowstone River and the Missouri. It was summer, yet snow lay deep on the trail.

  I rode a black horse that Captain Clark had bought for me from the Nez Percé. It was much easier riding in the snow than lower down where it had turned to slush. When we went over the mountains before, Meeko had been too young to enjoy the snow. Now when we camped I let him loose to stumble around in the drifts with Scannon nosing around at his side.

  We had enough horses to carry our men, all their baggage, and all the things Captain Lewis had collected. But when we had gone through Lolo Pass on our way to the sea it was clear of snow. Now the snow lay heavy and had covered up all the landmarks. The Pierced Noses said that game would be scarce and the horses would be without grass for several days.

  Yet the captains decided to move. If we waited, there would be no chance to reach Fort Mandan that year. We would eat no more than one meal each day. The horses could go without grass, the captains thought. Two of the Nez Percé promised to overtake us before we went far.

  We moved into Lolo Pass on snow twice the height of our horses. The guides did not come. We suffered from the cold. I wrapped Meeko in two blankets. There was no game, not a bird bigger than a wren. The horses found no grass.

  Drewyer, our only guide, wondered if we were on the right trail. The captains said we must be lost, so they gave orders to turn back.

  The men dug pits in the deep snow and buried what little food we had, all the baggage, and all the papers the captains had kept. Drewyer hurried ahead to see if he could find a guide in the Nez Percé village we had left only a few days before. He was told to offer a fine rifle to anyone who could lead us as far as Traveler's Rest.

  We pressed on behind Drewyer, numb with cold. There were many frozen toes and fingers and faces. Trouble dogged us from the start. We lost a valuable mule and four horses. One of the men cut a vein in his leg. Captain Lewis could barely stop the bleeding. Another of the men tumbled with his horse while crossing Hungry Creek and lost his only blanket.

  After three days without grass, the horses began to starve. I cut long strips from the bark of an alder tree and fed them to my horse as we went along. The horses gnawed at each other's tails. By the time we came to the Nez Percé village, their tails were nothing but nubs.

  We found guides in the village. The brother of Chief Cut Nose and two young warriors for the gift of two rifles agreed to show us the way over the pass. Captain Clark discovered some blue beads he had forgotten and bought salmon with them.

  We started back at once in the fierce cold. In two days we reached the place where our goods were buried and dug them up.

  There was little to eat, nothing for the horses. The guides brought us to a lofty crag where the Nez Percé had built a stone mound and put up a pole. It was a sacred place for them. They said that just beyond we would find food for our starving horses.

  They were right. The next day we came to vast fields of grass. The day after that we were out of the heavy snow. Then came a blissful sight. Our hunters who had gone on ahead of us had killed a deer. The carcass lay beside the trail, ready to eat.

  That night Captain Lewis spoke to us while we ate our first meal in days. We were camped near a village of Flatheads.

  "In the winter, Captain Clark and I decided to look for a shorter trail to the Great Falls," he said. "We'll go with two parties. I'll take a party up the Hellgate and Blackfoot to the falls. Then I'll explore the River That Scolds at All the Others and try to find out if there's a river that flows into it from the north country."

  Captain Lewis was serious. He repeated his words again and named those men he would take.

  "This is very important," he said. "One of the reasons we made this journey was to find such a river. If it does exist, we will have a quick, sure way to carry Canadian furs down to the Missouri and hence to market."

  He went on, speaking slowly. "Captain Clark," he said, "will take a party to the forks of the Beaverhead, where our boats were left last fall. After the boats are put in condition, he will choose men to take them to the Great Falls. In the meantime, I will have left men there and the two parties then will carry everything on a portage around the falls."

  The talk went on for a long time, but after I heard that I was to go with Captain Clark, I did not listen. I thought about Running Deer and my brother and all the Shoshone people. We were close to the place they always camped late in the summer, but now they would be down below hunting buffalo, too far away for us to see them again. I would never see them again. I also thought about Charbonneau's new wife, the girl he had chosen from the Flathead village.

  That night I said to him, "We are close to the place where you left
your Flathead girl. Tomorrow we go with Captain Clark in a different way. You do not wish to spend days riding back to find her."

  I hoped with all my heart that he would go and find the girl and somehow decide to stay with her and the Flatheads. Not a day had gone since we left Fort Clatsop that he had not complained about his health—the blisters on his hands from paddling, his saddle sores, his cough. Or the long way he now had to travel to reach Fort Mandan. Or how much he disliked Captain Clark.

  "You had best go now," I said. "Not someday."

  He grunted. "Ho! Charbonneau forgot. Bad husband, Charbonneau, huh?"

  "Just forgetful," I said. I did not wish to cause trouble.

  "Maybe Charbonneau should go now. What you think, Shoshone?"

  "Go," I said. "Your wife may have a baby."

  "Sure. Two babies, huh? Charbonneau great man, huh?"

  But in the morning he had forgotten about his Flathead wife. We were on the trail two days before he spoke about her again. He got up from the breakfast fire and wiped the deer tallow from his beard. Everyone was asleep. He spoke quietly under his breath.

  "Charbonneau go now. Shoshone go too. Hurry. Keep little mouth closed. Shoshone mouth also."

  "Go alone," I said. "It is a long way to the Flathead village, and a longer way back because by then Captain Clark will be five or six days ahead of us. We do not know the trail. We may never catch up with him. We may get lost."

  "Ki yi! Captain Clark, Captain Clark, he is not your husband. Lost? Zut!"

  I was kneeling by the fire, scooping dirt to put it out. I said nothing more and went on with the dirt. The horses were tied close to the tent lest they be stolen in the night. He untied two horses. He picked up Meeko, who was asleep beside me, and put him in the cradleboard.

  I still knelt by the fire. When I did not move, he yanked me to my feet.

  "Hurry," he said. "Charbonneau not want nobody to see. Nobody's business, huh?"