The Captain's Dog: My Journey With the Lewis and Clark Tribe

by Roland Smith

  When we finished eating, our large party proceeded over to the Jefferson. As we approached the river the Shoshones once again grew suspicious that we were leading them into a trap. They began talking of returning to their village, and one shouted that the white men had filled their bellies with meat to dull them.

  Chief Cameahwait began taking the fur tippets from around his men's necks and putting them on our men. "If we are attacked," he said, "they will not be able to tell the difference between their tribe and ours."

  Captain Lewis, desperate to keep the Shoshones at the river, took the deception a step further by putting his cocked hat on Cameahwait's head. The other men followed suit and gave their hats to the Shoshones.

  The Captain turned to Drouillard. "Tell Cameahwait that our other chief will be waiting for us at the fork when we arrive."

  ***

  But when the fork came into view, Captain Clark was not there. Near the fork was a thick stand of trees that could easily conceal a whole tribe of warriors. This started another round of fear and suspicion. Cameahwait balked and brought the party to a halt.

  Fearing the Shoshones were about to turn their horses around, Captain Lewis handed his rifle to Cameahwait. Turning to Drouillard Lewis said, "Tell him that if his enemies are in those trees, he can defend himself with my rifle."

  At first Drouillard was too shocked to raise his hands. He stared at the Captain with his mouth open.

  "Tell him!"

  Drouillard reluctantly made the signs.

  Cameahwait understood, but he still hesitated to move forward.

  "Tell him that I am not afraid to die," Captain Lewis said. "Tell him that if I have deceived him he can shoot me."

  "I don't think that's—," Drouillard began.

  "Tell him!"

  Drouillard did as he was ordered.

  "Now give your rifles to the Shoshones."

  Drouillard, McNeal, and Shields looked as if they thought the Captain had lost his mind. The men didn't like having their best friends hold their rifles, and now the Captain was asking them to give them up to complete strangers. And Indians to boot.

  "Do it now!"

  I think this was the hardest thing these men had ever done, but each of them handed his rifle to the Shoshone next to him. This bold gesture seemed to calm Cameahwait and his men down somewhat, and we proceeded on to the fork.

  When we got there, Captain Lewis asked Drouillard in a rather loud cheerful voice if he remembered the place where we had left the note for Captain Clark downriver. We had put the note there several days earlier to apprise him of our situation.

  "Yes, sir."

  "Good! Take one of the Indians to the river and bring the note back to me."

  "But you wrote—"

  "Act like you've never seen the note before and make sure your friend sees you find it."

  Drouillard nodded and returned awhile later with the note, trying to act very excited, which was not an easy role for him to play. Captain Lewis grabbed the note out of his hand as if Drouillard had brought him a sack of gold. He showed it to Chief Cameahwait, claiming it was from Captain Clark informing them that Clark and his men would be along the following day and to wait there for them. Cameahwait looked the note over carefully and seemed fascinated with the idea that the captains could communicate with each other by making little marks on paper.

  "What will we do if Captain Clark doesn't arrive at the fork tomorrow?" McNeal asked.

  "I have no idea," Captain Lewis said.

  That night, for the benefit of the Shoshones, the Captain feigned a jovial confidence he did not feel. The Captain's cheerfulness seemed strained. The Shoshones were not fooled. They knew something was wrong. When the Captain unrolled his blanket for the night near the fire, they put their beds all around him so he could not leave.

  August 17, 1805

  I slept very little last night, worrying about what I will do if Captain Clark does not arrive today. What could be keeping him? Any number of things, I realize. It is so frustrating to wait here knowing that with each passing minute the Shoshones may bolt like frightened deer. They have been raided so many times in recent years, they trust no one. I cannot blame them. According to Cameahwait, their numbers have been greatly reduced from disease and starvation as well as war. They have been left with barely enough men of fighting age to defend themselves.

  I sent Drouillard downriver with an Indian, hoping he can intercept Captain Clark and hurry him along....

  "There's ink spilled over this page," Colter says.

  "Pass me that canteen."

  Drouillard hands it over.

  CAPTAIN LEWIS spilled the ink when the brave who had accompanied Drouillard came running into camp yelling that there were white men in boats coming upriver.

  Captain Lewis jumped to his feet. He didn't notice the ink he spilled because Chief Cameahwait had him in a bear hug. Though Captain Lewis hadn't understood the brave's words, he understood Cameahwait's enthusiasm and it was hard to say which of them was more excited. Captain Lewis could now get his horses and perhaps get through the mountains before winter set in. But Cameahwait had even more at stake. The arrival of Captain Clark meant he had not led his people into an ambush.

  A few minutes later Captain Clark, Charbonneau, Bird Woman, and Drouillard walked into camp ahead of the men in the canoes. The Shoshones swarmed to Captain Clark. When Chief Cameahwait finished hugging him, the chief tied a bunch of seashells in Captain Clark's hair. Then Captain Lewis was finally able to cut through the crowd and reach his friend. The two men embraced and there were tears in the eyes of both.

  I stood off to the side to save my paws from getting tramped upon. Bird Woman saw me and reached into her pouch for a dead mouse, which I swallowed in one gulp. She hunched down and turned so I could see Pomp. He seemed to have grown a great deal during our short separation. Bird Woman was going to have to make a bigger cradleboard to accommodate him soon. He grinned and laughed, and I gave him a wet lick across his brown face. I was about to give him another for good measure when Bird Woman squealed in delight, running toward a young Shoshone woman about her age. The women hugged and cried and laughed and cried and chattered in rapid Shoshone. I was able to understand enough of their conversation to learn that this was Bird Woman's friend Jumping Fish, the girl who had gotten away the day Bird Woman was captured by the Hidatsas.

  The other Shoshones were too busy with Captain Clark to notice this reunion. Jumping Fish led Bird Woman away from the crowd. They took Pomp out of the cradleboard and while they talked, I played with him. I was surprised at how much I had missed him. I let him pull my fur and crawl around after me.

  As we were playing, Charbonneau walked up and told Bird Woman that he had been looking for her. "We're ready to parley and we need you to speak Shoshone for us."

  "We will talk again when I finish," Bird Woman said to Jumping Fish. "Will you watch my son while I'm gone?"

  Everyone was already gathered beneath the awning when Bird Woman arrived with Charbonneau. The large circle of men stopped talking as she approached and sat down next to her husband with her head lowered. Captain Lewis explained that the words would flow from him in English to Labiche, from Labiche to Charbonneau in French, from Charbonneau to Bird Woman in Hidatsa, and from Bird Woman to the chief in Shoshone.

  Bird Woman looked up and saw Cameahwait for the first time. Her eyes got wide and she yelled out, "Ah-ah-hi! Ah-ah-hi!" She jumped to her feet and rushed toward the chief. The captains stared at her in complete shock. Before they could stop her, she was in Cameahwait's arms.

  For the next few minutes there was a great deal of confusion. Cameahwait and Bird Woman were hugging and crying, and the other Shoshones were on their feet jumping up and down as if they were standing on hot coals.

  "What the devil is going on, Mister Charbonneau?" Captain Lewis asked, irritated that the dignity of his parley had been shattered.

  "Well..." Charbonneau struggled to explain. "Well ... it seems—" />
  "Spit it out, man!"

  "Chief Cameahwait is my wife's brother!"

  "I thought he had been killed in the Hidatsa raid."

  "Apparently not," Captain Clark said, grinning. "And if Cameahwait had any suspicion about our sincerity, this will certainly put an end to it."

  Cameahwait continued hugging his sister. Tears flowed down his face and several of the Shoshones were now crying along with him.

  After a time things settled down enough for the parley to begin, and they talked until after dark. Every once in a while Bird Woman would be overwhelmed with emotion and begin weeping, but she managed her part of the translation. Cameahwait promised to provide the party with as many horses as they needed. He also said that he would lead us to the trail the Indians used to cross the mountains.

  August 18, 1805

  Captain Clark rode off this morning with 11 men to scout the river and determine if we can ascend it with our canoes. From what we've heard, this now seems doubtful. The rest of the men are in camp with me, making saddles for the horses and preparing for our push over the mountains.

  Cameahwait has promised to take us to the mountains, but not over them, as he has not been that way himself and he must head to the buffalo grounds soon to gather meat for the winter.

  Today is my 31st birthday. I fear I have done little with my life to further the happiness of the human race. I view with regret the hours I have spent in indolence, and now wish I had those hours back to spend more wisely. I will endeavor to do better....

  Colter shakes his head. "Now, isn't that just like the Captain? He's led us nearly all the way across the country, discovered dozens of new animals and plants, made friends with hundreds of Indians, and in the process lost only one man. And he thinks he hasn't done anything with his life?"

  "It's a puzzlement, all right," Drouillard says. "But I guess that's just the way Captain Lewis is. What's he have to say next?"

  August 29, 1805

  We are ready for the mountains. We have 29 horses and the word of Old Toby that he will guide us.

  The possibility of a Northwest Passage seems to have come to an end with the tremendous mountains we must cross. Captain Clark has returned with the belief that there are no navigable rivers through the mountains, so the primary objective of our journey cannot be fulfilled. This is not a failure on our part, but I am very disappointed, considering the hardships we have endured searching for something that does not exist.

  Surprisingly, the men seem little bothered by this. Even Captain Clark does not seem overly concerned His only comment was, "life have solved a 300-year-old mystery. The answer is, there is no Northwest Passage. "He laughed heartily, as if this were the funniest irony he had ever heard.

  The only thing that keeps me going and dulls the pain of this disappointment is my concern for the men. I pray the mountains will not take any of them and that there is ample food on the other side.

  Old Toby is a frail old man, and I fear that he is not strong enough for a journey such as this. Fortunately his two sons are with him....

  BENEATH OLD TOBY'S loose wrinkled skin was a core of iron that eventually put all the men to shame, but Captain Lewis was right to worry about our crossing.

  The trails through the foothills leading to the mountains were steep and slippery. There was little food. Horses fell and tumbled down deep ravines. In our first few days we lost two horses from exhaustion and another was crippled and had to be shot.

  When Old Toby's sons left to rejoin the Shoshones to hunt buffalo, Captain Lewis nearly begged them to stay.

  "We cannot," one of them responded through Bird Woman. "We must help with the buffalo."

  "You can return as soon as we get to the other side of the mountains."

  "Winter may stop them from returning," Old Toby said. "What then?"

  "We will pay them generously."

  Old Toby shook his head. "My sons and their families cannot eat your gifts. I am too old to hunt. I will not be missed. I will take you over the mountains alone."

  September 3, 1805

  Two inches of snow on the ground. Sleet filling. Captain Clark shot four pheasants, which we divided among ourselves, along with some corn. Our guide eats virtually nothing. I caught him sharing his portion with my dog....

  Colter shakes his head. "That Toby was one tough old cuss."

  "He was that."

  THAT TOUGH OLD CUSS saved me from starving. A few handfuls of bird guts would not have gotten me far.

  When we moved from the foothills into the mountains, we met up with a group of Flathead Indians who were on their way to join the Shoshones to hunt buffalo. Their chief was named Three Eagles.

  "We have been watching your tribe for the past several days," he explained in hand-talk. He pointed to York. "I thought this man was painted with black paint because you were going to war. But by the casual way your tribe was riding and the fact that you had a woman and child with you, I knew you were not a raiding party. So I decided to greet you as friends."

  I'm not sure the captains understood how fortunate we were. Three Eagles had eighty warriors in his camp and could have easily overwhelmed us. Instead they fed us from their meager supply of food and shared information with the captains about what lay on the west side of the mountains.

  Captain Lewis tried to trade for food, but Three Eagles's people had none to spare. They did have extra horses, though, and we'd ended up with several of them by the time the Flatheads proceeded downhill and we proceeded up.

  That evening the hunters killed only two small birds, which we made into a stew with corn. Divided between so many, the meal was hardly worth the bother of cooking. Once again Old Toby shared his small portion with me.

  Each day we encountered steeper terrain, narrower trails, and dropping temperatures. Food became a distant memory.

  September 7, 1805

  Raining. Cold.

  September 9, 1805

  Arrived at a stream we are calling Traveler's Rest because that is what we intend to do. Drouillard killed a deer, and another man an elk.

  September 10, 1805

  Sent the men out hunting. Snow on the ground. Very cold.

  Colter looks at Mountain Dog and grins. "This was about the time I first laid eyes on you, Mountain Dog," he signs. "'Course you were just a boy then. You've filled out a mite over the years."

  Mountain Dog smiles back. "I ran away from you," he signs.

  "Like a jackrabbit."

  I was with Colter. We were hunting, but most of the animals had moved down to the plains for the winter, so we were not having any luck.

  I SAW WHITE FEATHER flying through the trees and I barked at him. Colter got excited. "What is it? You on to something, Sea? Let's go get it, boy!"

  White Feather led us up a steep hill. Halfway to the top I picked up human scent. Not fresh, but not too old, either.

  Colter sensed my interest. "You're on to it now, Sea," he said breathlessly. "Let's get that cuss!"

  I hurried ahead. On top of the ridge was a pile of huge round boulders. Sitting cross-legged on the highest boulder was a young boy, maybe fourteen or fifteen years old. And except for the buffalo robe under his bottom, he was stark naked.

  The wind was howling up on that ridge, snow blowing everywhere, but that boy looked as cozy as a pup suckling his mother. He had his eyes closed and was quietly singing something in a tongue I had never heard. White Feather was standing right in front of him. I sat below the boulder looking up at them, somehow knowing I had stumbled across something I wasn't supposed to disturb.

  Colter slipped on an icy spot just as he topped the ridge, and let out a yell. The boy's head snapped up and his eyes locked on mine for a second or two and he smiled. But the smile disappeared when he saw Colter coming up behind me.

  "What the devil?" Colter said. "I'll be a—"

  The boy and the robe were up and gone before Colter could describe what he would be.

  We searched for a good hour, but other than
the boy's footprints in the snow we could find neither hide nor hair of him.

  The boy was not the only Indian we saw that day. On our way back we came across three mounted Indians who seemed even less pleased to see us than the boy had been. Their faces were as taut as their bowstrings-all three of which were pointed right at Colter's heart.

  "Flatheads," Colter said.

  But I could tell they were from a different tribe altogether.

  "Now, don't get riled," Colter said, and gave them his most charming grin, which had absolutely no effect on them. Their forearms began to tremble from the strain of the loaded bows. Colter laid his rifle on the ground. The Indians relaxed their pull but kept their arrows notched.

  With very poor hand-talk Colter attempted to explain who he was and what he was doing on the mountain. The Indians didn't catch all of his meaning, but they understood enough to agree to follow us back to Traveler's Rest.

  The captains smoked the pipe with the Indians and learned they were from the Nez Percé tribe, or the Nee-mee-poo as they call themselves, meaning "the people." The Nez Percé explained to the captains they were after a band of Shoshones who had stolen twenty-three of their best horses from their village on the west side of the mountain. Captain Lewis fed them, then asked if they would lead us to their village. He was still doubtful that Old Toby was up to the task.

  The Nez Percé braves discussed the possibility among themselves, then signed to Drouillard that they had to pursue the thieves who stole their horses and they could not delay.

  "Sorry, Captain," Drouillard said.

  "We have to convince at least one of them to take us over, Drouillard! I don't think that Old Toby is up to the task. Ask them again. Tell them we'll give them gifts when we reach their land safely."