by Roland Smith
"We'll try to make the best out of this situation. Joe, get that flag out. Let's see if we can get their attention off our friend in the river bottom."
It worked. One of the Blackfeet saw the flag and whipped his horse forward in our direction. Captain Lewis calmly climbed off his horse and stood waiting for the Blackfeet's approach.
The brave was disconcerted by the Captain's reaction to the charge and brought his horse to a stop a hundred paces away. Captain Lewis held his hand out to him, and the brave wheeled his horse around and galloped back to the others.
"I only count eight of them," Joe said, greatly relieved.
The Blackfeet were mere boys—younger than Mountain Dog and his friends.
"But there may be more." The Captain climbed back up on his horse. "Several of the horses have saddles on them. We'll walk up to them, but if there is trouble I plan to resist to my dying breath."
"We're with you, Captain," the Fields brothers said in unison.
When we got within a few paces, the Captain had the brothers stop. He approached the boy who had charged us alone. When the Captain got up to him, he put his hand out again. This time the boy shook it.
Joe and Reubin let out long breaths of pure relief, and rode up behind the Captain.
With poor hand-talk, the Captain explained that the man in the river bottom was with us and suggested that Reubin and one of the Blackfeet ride down and bring him up.
"I was pretty surprised when Reubin rode up to me with an Indian behind him," Drouillard explains. "When we got to the top we were met by Captain Lewis and the others. The sun was just going down, and the Captain said that he had invited the Blackfeet to camp with us...."
BEFORE WE MET Drouillard, the Captain had given the Blackfeet the medals he had with him, a handkerchief, and the flag.
We found a good spot to camp at a bend in the river. The Blackfeet made a domed shelter out of sticks, threw some tanned buffalo hides over it, then invited the Captain inside for a parley. Drouillard did the hand-talking.
They said they were from a large band of Blackfeet about a day's march away. They also told us that another band of Blackfeet was out hunting buffalo and would arrive at the mouth of Maria's River in a few days, which was not welcome news, as our men were near the mouth getting the pirogue and our supplies ready to go down the Missouri.
The talk lasted late into the night. Captain Lewis gave his speech about their great white father, and told them that it would be to their tribe's advantage to cooperate with us. He asked them where they had gotten their muskets. They told him they had traded furs for them at the British fort to the north.
"Ask them if they'll come with us to the mouth of Maria's River," the Captain told Drouillard. "Ask if a couple of them would like to go with us even farther, to Saint Louis."
Drouillard made the signs, but the boys didn't respond. We got their answer the next morning.
Captain Lewis was afraid the Blackfeet might try to steal our horses during the night. We were all exhausted and the Fields brothers had the late sentry duty.
I lay down next to the Captain, closed my eyes, and didn't open them until I heard Drouillard shout—
"Damn you! Let go of my gun!"
It was just dawn. Drouillard was in a tug-of-war with the Blackfeet who had his rifle. Captain Lewis jumped up and reached for his rifle, but found it gone. We saw one of the Blackfeet boys running away with it. The Captain pulled the horse pistol out of his holster and ran after him.
The boy stopped. Captain Lewis pointed the pistol at him and motioned for him to lay the rifle on the ground. The boy started to do so, when the Fields brothers came running up with their rifles loaded and cocked.
"Don't shoot him!" Captain Lewis shouted at them.
The boy dropped Captain Lewis's rifle and ran. As Captain Lewis retrieved it, the Fields brothers explained that a Blackfeet had stolen their rifles when they weren't looking.
"We chased after the Indian who took our rifles," Reubin said. "I pulled my knife on him and stabbed him in the heart He's lying dead right over there—"
For a moment the men and I were stunned. We had been traveling for months through Indian territory and there had been some tense moments, but none before this had led to a death. Then I noticed the Blackfeet were trying to scatter our horses. I started barking.
"The horses!" Captain Lewis shouted. "Go after them, boys. We're dead if they get our mounts."
Captain Lewis and I ran after the two Indians driving the horses upriver. The Fields brothers and Drouillard ran after the others, who were driving the horses downriver.
We chased the Indians nearly three hundred yards, until they reached the vertical wall of the bluff. They ran the horses into a small alcove and tried to take cover behind a pile of rocks in front of the alcove. One of them had an old musket with him. We couldn't see if the second boy was armed or not.
"Let our horses go!" Captain Lewis shouted.
The Blackfeet boys didn't move or say a word.
Captain Lewis shouldered his rifle, aimed, and fired, wounding the boy in the belly. The boy fell over but got right back up and fired at Captain Lewis. The ball missed.
In his hurry the Captain had left his shot pouch back at camp and could not reload.
"Let's go, Sea."
Captain Lewis and I ran back to camp. Drouillard was there with four horses. The Fields brothers came back with four more.
While the men saddled the horses, Captain Lewis threw everything he could find that belonged to the Blackfeet into the fire.
"We've got some hard riding to do, gentlemen," he said. "When word of this gets to the other Blackfeet bands they are going to seek revenge. We need to get to the mouth of Maria's River and warn the other men."
They rode off. For the first couple hours I was able to keep up with them, but then I started to fall behind.
"We rode all day and half the night," Drouillard says. "We stopped briefly to let the horses graze late that afternoon. After we rested for a bit, we got back on our horses and rode until dark, figuring we had gotten about eighty miles away from the Blackfeet. We shot a buffalo and ate, then started out again and rode until two in the morning. We rode a hundred miles in less than twenty hours."
"And the dog?" Watkuweis asks.
Drouillard looks at me. "We kind of lost track of him. Didn't really notice he wasn't with us until we stopped that afternoon. We weren't overly concerned—Sea was a good tracker and we thought he'd be able to find us. We couldn't go back for him, that's for certain. We had our men on the river to think about. Captain Lewis was confident Sea would catch up to us. He always had in the past..."
MY LEG WAS bothering me and it was impossible for me to keep up with the horses. It was dark by the time I reached the place they had let the horses graze. By the scent, I knew the men were a good four or five hours ahead of me. If I had kept going I might have been able to catch them by morning, but I was too tired to continue and, like Captain Lewis, I was sure I would catch up eventually. I slept.
"Captain Lewis woke us up at sunrise," Drouillard continues. "I'd never been more sore in my life. I thought we had another full day of riding in front of us, but we reached the river after a dozen miles. We headed down a ways and ran right into our men paddling the canoes and pirogue downriver. We took our bags off the horses, put them in the boats, and floated down to the mouth of Maria's River.
"When we got there we quickly checked the caches we had left the previous year. Most of the supplies were ruined by water, but we took what we could and left in an awful hurry..."
I WAS UP AT SUNRISE, too, with my leg hurting worse than it had the day before. I limped along, following the men's track throughout the day, stopping briefly to feed on the buffalo they had shot the previous evening. Wolves had been at the carcass but had moved on by the time I arrived. After my meal I continued following the Captain's trail. It was well after dark when I reached the point where he had gotten to the Missouri. I slept again.
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br /> The next morning I followed the river down to the mouth of Maria's River. When I saw the open caches I figured the men had gone on without me. If they had, they were running with the current now and catching up to them would not be easy, but I was going to try.
I had started sniffing around the caches for something to eat when I came across the Captain's knapsack. The Captain must have forgotten it in his rush to leave. It was open. The only things inside were a bottle of ink and the red book. I pulled the book out, knowing the Captain would want it, and I had just started heading downriver when I heard horses coming up behind me fast.
It was a large band of Blackfeet! I ran. A couple of them broke off from the band and pursued me.
As I had so many times before, I jumped into the river to escape, holding the red book above water so it would not get damaged. About halfway across I felt a searing pain in my front shoulder. I glanced down and saw an arrow sticking out of it. I continued to swim as best I could and finally reached the opposite shore. Another arrow came my way, but it missed. With the river between me and the Blackfeet, I was safe. They weren't about to get wet chasing a dog.
I pulled the arrow out with my teeth, which was the most painful thing I had ever done. Exhausted and hurt, I crawled under some bushes and went to sleep.
I don't know how long I lay there, but it had to be days. I didn't even have the strength to get up and walk to the river for a drink. I thought of Captain Lewis and the men, and knew I would never see them again. I grew weaker and weaker. I waited to die.
"Caw! Caw! Caw!"
When I heard that sound I used the last of my strength to crawl out from under the bush. And there was Mountain Dog. His horse was still wet from the crossing.
"Yahka?" He ran over to me and looked at the wound in my shoulder. "So, this is where the crow was leading me."
"Caw! Caw! Caw!"
Mountain Dog turned and looked up at the crow with the white feather on his wing. He had found his wyakin and his wyakin had found me.
"We met the rest of our party where the Yellowstone and Missouri meet," Drouillard continues. "From there we proceeded on to Saint Louis, arriving there in September 1806 ... and I guess that's just about it.
"Now tell us, Watkuweis, how you got ahold of the Captain's journal."
Watkuweis smiles. "If you take a close look at the cover, perhaps you can tell me."
Drouillard holds the red book close to the fire and examines the cover. "Teeth marks?"
He looks over at me.
"My wyakin led me to Yahka," Mountain Dog says. "When I crossed the river, Yahka crawled out from beneath a bush with an arrow wound in his shoulder. Under the bush where he had lain was the red book."
***
MOUNTAIN DOG brought me food and water and treated my wound. After two days I was able to stand. After a week, I could walk to the river and get a drink for myself.
The evening before we left, White Feather appeared in a tree above our campfire and stayed there all night. The next morning he led us home.
In the morning my old friends pack their horses. Colter gets to his knees in front of me and takes a handful of fur on either side of my face. He looks into my eyes and bugles like a bull elk looking for a cow. "Guess this is it, Sea," he says. "Unless you want to come with us."
I am sorely tempted. Not a day has gone by that I haven't thought of Captain Lewis and the rambles we took and the things we saw. I've thought of the men and wondered what paths they have followed. I could go with them—Mountain Dog would understand. But I feel my place is here with my new tribe.
I watch Colter and Drouillard ride east across the flat prairie until I can no longer see them.
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Author's Note
AS I WRITE THIS I am flying thirty-five thousand feet above the Great Plains, not far from where the Corps of Discovery passed nearly two centuries ago. The grass sea has been replaced by a patchwork of farms. The wild rivers the men struggled against have been tamed by dams to create power for the cities and towns built in the wake of their exploration. Sadly most of the buffalo and wolves are gone. So, too, are most of the Native Americans who helped the explorers by providing food, advice, and guidance almost every step of the way.
The captains could not have imagined me flying above them in a jet, crossing the continent in a few hours. Nor could they have imagined a nation covered with paved highways for automobiles, or trains, or telephones, or computers. In their time nothing traveled faster than a horse, and yet the captains were considered modern men. They were equipped with the latest technology of their day—compasses, a chronometer, a sextant, spyglasses, and perhaps most important, pens, ink, and paper.
The men of the Corps of Discovery could not see into the future, but we can see into the past because they left us wonderfully detailed journals describing their remarkable journey. I relied heavily on these journals to write The Captain's Dog, but I also used my imagination freely to fill in events that might have happened to give the reader a fuller sense of what these men experienced.
The idea for using Seaman to tell this story came from my lifelong love and admiration for dogs and wolves. As a biologist I spent more than twenty years working with canines in the field and in captivity. Every time I came across Seaman's name in one of the journals I found myself wondering what he thought of the incidents the captains and other men described. It wasn't long before my imagination translated Seaman's responses into the words that tell this story. Dogs spend more time watching us than we do watching them. As a result, I believe they know a great deal more about us than we know about them. A dog sees, hears, and smells things we cannot dream of perceiving. Who better to tell this story than the Captain's extraordinary dog?
As I studied the Lewis and Clark journals and those of the other men, I found myself wishing I could travel back in time and join Seaman for a day or two. I would give just about anything to see a buffalo herd so vast it takes a day to amble by us, or deer and elk so numerous and unafraid I have to toss sticks at them to get them out of our way, or a pack of gray wolves hunting in broad daylight without the slightest fear of humans.
If I had a time machine the first trip I'd take would be back to June 14, 1805, and join Seaman the day after he and Captain Lewis found the Great Falls. This was the day they were chased by the grizzly, harassed by the wolverine, and charged by the bull buffalo—what a day that was! My second trip would be back to August 17, 1805, when Bird Woman discovered that her brother, Cameahwait, was alive.
Perhaps two hundred years from now we will have time machines and the ability to travel back to witness the great events of history for ourselves. Until then we have books and our imaginations. Where will you go next?
ROLAND SMITH
March 19, 1999
Somewhere above the Great Plains...
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Reader Chat Page
1. On the expedition, Seaman notices that, "The men were always talking about luck. It came in two versions—good and bad." Do you believe that the future is determined by luck, destiny, or our own actions? How much control do you think we each have over our fate?
2. Seaman often uses his special canine traits—like a strong sense of smell—to lead the explorers to food, and to warn them about impending trouble. What are your special talents or skills, and how might they help you on a similar journey?
3. When Private John Newman is accused of attempted desertion and mutiny, he says, "I'm sick of being a slave ... Aren't all of you? It's time we knock the captains down a peg or two and take this expedition over!" Why did Captain Clark choose to punish Newman in the manner he did? Do you think Newman's attempt to shirk his obligations is justifiable or not?
4. The first time we meet Sacajawea and hçr husband, Charbonneau, Captain Lewis is worried about how she will fare on the journey because she looks frail. Have you ever misjudged someone's abilities or personality based on a first impression? Has anyone underestimated you?
5. In wh
at way is Captain Lewis's pride a positive trait and in what way is it negative?
6. Why did some Native American tribes, such as Shoshone and Nez Percé, welcome Lewis and Clark, while other tribes, like Blackfeet, viewed them as intruders and enemies? What do Lewis and Clark do to befriend the tribes, and vice versa? What motives did the tribes have to accept such peace offerings?
7. Seaman has his own spirit guide, or wyakin, and receives the nickname "Yahka" because he looks like a black bear to Mountain Dog. What kind of animal would you choose to be your spirit guide, and why? If you could give yourself a new name based on your physical or mental attributes, what name would you choose?
8. Captain Lewis's real journal entries are at the beginning of each chapter, but Roland Smith had to fill in the blanks when descriptions were vague. If someone found your blog posts, journal entries, or other writings and wanted to write a story about your life, what kind of picture would they get about your daily life? What would be missing?
9. In spite of his many accomplishments, Captain Lewis chides himself on his thirty-first birthday, writing in his journal, "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." Meanwhile, the day that he is chased by a grizzly, harassed by a wolverine, and charged by a bull buffalo is the happiest day of his life. What does this say about his personality, and how do you measure success in your own life?
10. Captain Clark and Captain Lewis have very different leadership styles. How do they use teamwork to balance each other's shortcomings and strengths?
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About the Author
Roland Smith is a former wolf biologist and canine expert who has spent more than twenty years studying wildlife throughout the world. Mr. Smith is the author of many outstanding books for children, including Sasquatch, Jaguar, and Thunder Cave, which was named an NCSS-CBC Notable Children's Trade Book in the Field of Social Studies. He and his wife, Marie, live on a small farm near Portland, Oregon. To find out more about Roland Smith and his books or to request a curriculum guide for The Captain's Dog, you can visit his web site at www.rolandsmith.com or send him an e-mail at [email protected]
