They trapsed gaily across the river, and in the lodge of Chief Black Cat, who lived at this village, Francois Labiche, one of the boat-men from Cahokia, opposite St. Louis, danced on his head to the music of the two fiddles, and thereby greatly astonished the Indians.
The village rewarded the dancers with buffalo robes and corn; and that evening Head Chief Black Cat brought to the fort another quantity of meat packed on his wife’s back.
“Let the white medicine dancers visit my other villages, or there will be jealousy,” he urged.
“I will haf no more hair,” complained Francois Labiche.
Forty below zero sank the thermometer. John Newman froze his feet so badly that he was unable to walk in, and a rescue party with horses were sent to get him.
Captain Clark, with Chaboneau as guide, led a hunting party down-river, with the thermometer eighteen below. Chaboneau returned alone, to say that Captain Clark had obtained some meat, but that the horses could not carry it on the slippery ice.
“Your wife is ill, Chaboneau,” informed Captain Lewis. And Chaboneau rushed for his lodge.
Forth he darted again.
“My wife she ver’ seeck,” he cried, wringing his hands. “W’at s’all I do? I fear she die, ma pauvre Sa-ca-ja-we-a (my poor Sa-ca-ja-we-a).”