Only one fly remained in the ointment of the boys. They could not forget that, as long as the revengeful Frenchman, François Lascelles, hovered about that part of the country, they could never feel safe. No matter if he were unseen, they knew him well enough to believe that he would be plotting in some underhand way to injure them, as he had done so many times in the past.
“We will never know a minute’s peace as long as that man is alive,” said Roger, when the subject came up to cast a shadow on their happiness.
The weather did not improve as they descended the Columbia. Rain fell frequently, and twice they saw where serious landslides had occurred. It made them more careful as to where they camped when night came, for, should they be so unfortunate as to be caught in one of these slips, the result was apt to be exceedingly serious.
They saw Indians daily. Sometimes these were ashore, and again they met them in canoes made of hide, or, it might be, dugouts formed from logs. In most cases the natives avoided them, for the sight of white faces and beards filled them with wonder and fear. Some of them must have believed the explorers had come from one of the stars, and were people of another world, for never had they dreamed there could be any but copper-colored inhabitants on this sphere.
Nor were the adventurers always free from peril from this source. On several occasions an arrow had been known to hurtle into camp; and one of the men even received a flesh wound.
For a short time it was feared the shaft might have had a poisoned tip, and every expedient to neutralize the venom was immediately applied. As the man did not suffer any great disability on account of his injury, they finally concluded that the Flat Heads, at least, did not dip the heads of their war arrows in the poison of the rattlesnake, as some tribes were known to do. ([Note 10].)
Captain Lewis did not like the menacing manner in which some of these Indians acted when on the bank of the river, while the little flotilla of canoes was passing.
“I feel certain there is some malign influence at work, behind the scenes,” Dick heard him telling Captain Clark, after they had seen a manifestation of this ill humor one day, when several half-naked red skins brandished their spears toward them as the boats drifted past, at the same time uttering angry cries; “and, since we happen to know that Lascelles slipped past us down the river, there can be no doubt it is his work.”
“A few days more and we shall be there, the captain says,” announced Roger, as he made his way back a short distance up the river in company with his chum, they having noticed signs of game.
The boys had gone about half a mile from the camp, having caught sight of a feeding deer.