CHAPTER XIX.
The party return in safety to St. Louis.
Sunday, August 31. We examined our arms, and proceeded with the wind in our favour. For some time we saw several Indians on the hills, but soon lost sight of them. In passing the dome, and the first village of barking squirrels, we stopped and killed two fox squirrels, an animal which we have not seen on the river higher than this place. At night we encamped on the northeast side, after a journey of seventy miles. We had seen no game, as usual, on the river; but in the evening the musquetoes soon discovered us.
Monday, September 1. We set out early, but were shortly compelled to put to shore, for half an hour, till a thick fog disappeared. At nine o’clock we passed the entrance of the Quicurre, which presents the same appearance as when we ascended, the water rapid and of a milky-white colour. Two miles below several Indians ran down to the bank, and beckoned to us to land; but as they appeared to be Tetons, and of a war party, we paid no attention to them, except to inquire to what tribe they belonged; but as the Sioux interpreter did not understand much of the language, they probably mistook his question. As one of our canoes was behind, we were afraid of an attack on the men, and therefore landed on an open commanding situation, out of the view of the Indians, in order to wait for them. We had not been in this position fifteen minutes, when we heard several guns, which we immediately concluded were fired at the three hunters; and being now determined to protect them against any number of Indians, captain Clarke with fifteen men ran up the river, whilst captain Lewis hobbled up the bank, and formed the rest of the party in such a manner as would best enable them to protect the boats. On turning a point of the river, captain Clarke was agreeably surprised at seeing the Indians remaining in the place where we left them, and our canoe at the distance of a mile. He now went on a sandbar, and when the Indians crossed, gave them his hand, and was informed that they had been amusing themselves with shooting at an old keg, which we had thrown into the river, and was floating down. We now found them to be part of a band of eighty lodges of Yanktons, on Plum creek, and therefore invited them down to the camp, and after smoking several pipes, told them that we had mistaken them for Tetons, and had intended putting every one of them to death, if they fired at our canoe; but finding them Yanktons, who were good men, we were glad to take them by the hand as faithful children, who had opened their ears to our counsels. They saluted the Mandan with great cordiality, and one of them declared that their ears had indeed been opened, and that they had followed our advice since we gave a medal to their great chief, and should continue to do so. We now tied a piece of riband to the hair of each Indian, and gave them some corn. We made a present of a pair of leggings to the principal chief, and then took our leave, being previously overtaken by our canoe. At two o’clock we landed to hunt on Bonhomme island, but obtained a single elk only. The bottom on the northeast side is very rich, and so thickly overgrown with pea-vines and grass, interwoven with grape-vines, that some of the party who attempted to hunt there, were obliged to leave it and ascend the plain, where they found the grass nearly as high as their heads. These plains are much richer below than above the Quicurre, and the whole country is now very beautiful. After making fifty-two miles against a head wind, we stopped for the night on a sandbar, opposite to the Calumet bluff, where we had encamped on the first of September, 1804, and where our flag-staff was still standing. We suffered very much from the musquetoes, till the wind became so high as to blow them all away.
Tuesday, 2. At eight o’clock we passed the river Jacques, but soon after were compelled to land, in consequence of the high wind from the northeast, and remain till sunset: after which we went on to a sandbar twenty-two miles from our camp of last evening. Whilst we were on shore we killed three buffaloes, and four prairie fowls, which are the first we have seen in descending. Two turkies were also killed, and were very much admired by the Indians, who had never seen that animal before. The plains continue level and fertile, and in the low grounds there is much white oak, and some white ash in the ravines and high bottoms, with lyn and slippery elm occasionally. During the night the wind shifted to the southwest and blew the sand over us in such a manner, that our situation was very unpleasant. It lulled, however, towards daylight, and we then,
Wednesday, 3, proceeded. At eleven o’clock we passed the Redstone. The river is now crowded with sandbars, which are very differently situated now from what they were when we ascended. But notwithstanding these and the head wind, we made sixty miles before night, when we saw two boats and several men on shore. We landed, and found a Mr. James Airs, a partner of a house at Prairie de Chien, who had come from Mackinau by the way of Prairie de Chien and St. Louis with a license to trade among the Sioux for one year. He had brought two canoes loaded with merchandise, but lost many of his most useful articles in a squall some time since. After so long an interval, the sight of any one who could give us information of our country, was peculiarly delightful, and much of the night was spent in making inquiries into what had occurred during our absence. We found Mr. Airs a very friendly and liberal gentleman, and when we proposed to him to purchase a small quantity of tobacco, to be paid for in St. Louis, he very readily furnished every man of the party with as much as he could use during the rest of the voyage, and insisted on our accepting a barrel of flour. This last we found very agreeable, although we have still a little flour which we had deposited at the mouth of Maria’s river. We could give in return only about six bushels of corn, which was all that we could spare. The next morning,
Thursday, 4, we left Mr. Airs about eight o’clock, and after passing the Big Sioux river, stopped at noon near Floyd’s bluff. On ascending the hill we found that the grave of Floyd had been opened, and was now half uncovered. We filled it up, and then continued down to our old camp near the Maha village, where all our baggage, which had been wet by the rain of last night, was exposed to dry. There is no game on the river except wild geese and pelicans. Near Floyd’s grave are some flourishing black walnut trees, which are the first we have seen on our return. At night we heard the report of several guns in a direction towards the Maha village, and supposed it to be the signal of the arrival of some trader. But not meeting him when we set out, the next morning,
Friday, 5, we concluded that the firing was merely to announce the return of the Mahas to the village, this being the season at which they return home from buffaloe hunting, to take care of their corn, beans and pumpkins. The river is now more crooked, the current more rapid, and crowded with snags and sawyers, and the bottoms on both sides well supplied with timber. At three o’clock we passed the Bluestone bluff, where the river leaves the highlands and meanders through a low rich bottom, and at night encamped, after making seventy-three miles.
Saturday, 6. The wind continued ahead, but the musquetoes was so tormenting that to remain was more unpleasant than even to advance, however slowly, and we therefore proceeded. Near the Little Sioux river we met a trading boat belonging to Mr. Augustus Chateau, of St. Louis, with several men on their way to trade with the Yanktons at the river Jacques. We obtained from them a gallon of whiskey, and gave each of the party a dram, which is the first spirituous liquor any of them have tasted since the fourth of July 1805. After remaining with them for some time we went on to a sandbar, thirty miles from our last encampment, where we passed the night in expectation of being joined by two of the hunters. But as they did not come on, we set out next morning,
Sunday, 7, leaving a canoe with five men, to wait for them, but had not gone more than eight miles, when we overtook them; we therefore fired a gun, which was a signal for the men behind, which, as the distance in a direct line was about a mile, they readily heard and soon joined us. A little above the Soldier’s river we stopped to dine on elk, of which we killed three, and at night, after making forty-four miles, encamped on a sandbar, where we hoped in vain to escape from the musquetoes. We therefore set out early the next morning,