After having been gone over two weeks, George Shannon appeared at last, riding through the rain, with only one horse. He had been lost, and had almost starved, and the other horse had broken down. All were glad to see George again.
But where, now, were the Teton Sioux? George reported that he had seen none.
The last week in September a great smoke was sighted in the distance; and that night three Indian boys swam the river, to enter the camp. They were Tetons, from two villages a few miles above.
“Give them some tobacco,” directed Captain Lewis. “Tell them to say to their chiefs that we will hold a council to-morrow morning, near the villages.”
On the way up, Reuben Fields, who had been hunting, horseback, returned afoot and signalled to be taken aboard. He said that some Indians had stolen his horse while he was dressing an elk.
“Oui,” chirped Drouillard. “Dose Tetons haf bad hearts. We best look sharp or dey take scalps, too.”
“We mustn’t let them have the idea they can plunder us,” spoke Captain Lewis, reddening. “This leaves us without horses.”
“Aren’t those several Indians, on the bank ahead?” presently queried Captain Clark.
Captain Lewis peered through his spy-glass.
“Five of them. We’ll stop and hail them, and hear what they have to say.”