More white traders were encountered. On August 12 there hove in sight two pirogues; aboard them were none other than Trader Gravelines himself, and old Pierre Dorion! Mr. Gravelines said that he had taken Chief Brave Raven, of the Arikaras, clear to Washington, and that the chief had seen the President, but had died just when about to return home. Now Mr. Gravelines was going up to the Arikaras with the President’s words, and with presents. Old Pierre Dorion was on his way to the Yankton Sioux again, hoping to get six more of them and take them to Washington.
“The United States has given all you people up for lost,” declared Trader Gravelines. “Nothing has been heard from you since you left Fort Mandan. The President and everybody are very anxious. We were asked to inquire about you, among the Indians.”
“Faith, an’ our welcome’ll be the more hearty,” asserted Sergeant Pat, to his fellows.
Boats containing trading parties were met constantly. Surely, thought Peter, St. Louis cannot be very far ahead. At a fifty-miles-a-day clip the boats proceeded. Soon the captains did not stop even to hunt; and camp was broken before daylight!
August 20 another glad shout arose.
“Cows, boys! Look at the cows! We’re near the settlements.”
“’Tis the best sight I’ve seen in better’n two years,” proclaimed Sergeant Pat. “Faith, I’m in that state o’ mind when I could kiss a cow on the nose!”
“What is cow, Pat?” invited Peter, staring.
“Oh, murther, an’ ye don’t know!” bewailed Pat. “The cow be the buff’lo civilized, Peter. She be the white man’s buff’lo. She gives us milk to drink an’ butter to ate, an’ the breath of her is swater’n the prairie breeze an’ the voice of her is beautiful.”