“Faith, an’ I dunno. Trust to the commandin’ officers, I guiss. That’s the proper way for soldiers. We’ll find a gate some’ers. There be some tremenjous falls to get around, fust, say the Injuns.”
“Sa-ca-ja-we-a know,” proudly asserted Chaboneau. “Her peoples lif dere, in ze mountains, beyond dose falls. She speak ze Snake tongue.”
“I gwine to kill one ob dem white b’ars,” boasted York.
All the fort was in a fever of impatience—the down-river men to be on their way “back to the United States,” as they expressed it; the up-river men to be on their way into a new country never explored by white foot. Long letters were being scrawled, for the “folks at home,” telling them of the past year’s adventures; Captain Lewis was busy preparing his report to the President; Captain Clark was laboring nights, by fire-light, putting final touches on a map of the Missouri, based upon a ruder map sketched by Little Raven, the Mandan, with charcoal on a buffalo hide. Baptiste Lepage and Chaboneau helped, for they, also, had been many days’ travel westward, trading with the Cheyennes and the Minnetarees.
Only John Newman was sad at heart. Captain Lewis had decreed that he be returned to St. Louis at the first opportunity. The opportunity was near. John pleaded to be permitted to go on with his comrades. He wanted to make good. Already he had showed that he was repentant of his brief bad conduct. Had he not worked faithfully, and even frozen his feet?
Captain Clark might have yielded to him, but Captain Lewis was sterner.
“No, John,” he said, again. “I must make an example of you. I cannot run the risk of any more mutinous talk. We have two thousand miles before us, and the party must all work together. You will return to St. Louis on the barge. Later, if your good conduct continues, I will request the President to overlook your offense and you will be granted an honorable discharge.”
“Yes, sir,” replied John Newman, saluting. “But it’s pretty tough, sir. I’d rather take another lickin’, sir.”
However, in time, John did receive honorable discharge, and was granted the 320 acres of land and the extra pay allowed to the other men.
April 7 was the day for breaking camp. By five o’clock in the afternoon the boats, loaded and manned—the barge for down-river, the six canoes and the two pirogues for up-river—were being held at the bank, waiting only for the captains’ orders.