“Let it be now, then,” replied his comrade.
Together they sent out lusty hails, forming their hands into cups that would answer the purpose of a megaphone, though neither Roger nor Dick had ever seen such a thing, since it was utterly unknown at that day.
And indeed, when the sound of their voices reached the plucky explorers, there seemed to ensue something like a small panic.
Some of the men were seen to jump for their firearms, doubtless under the impression that they were about to be attacked by a strolling band of the fierce Sioux, always striving to be the lords of the northwest prairies.
Then they apparently discovered that the two on the little island amidst the swirling waters of the flood were white boys, and that they were beckoning wildly, as though trying to let the exploring party know they needed help.
After that some of the men hurried up the shore so as to sooner reach a point opposite the island. Among them the prisoners of the flood recognized the figure of Captain Lewis, himself; for they had seen him talking to others in St. Louis early in the spring, before the expedition started.
“Who are you, and how did you come there?” demanded the leader of the party, also using his hands in order to make his voice carry above the roar of the current.
“We come from St. Louis, and have been trying to overtake you!” replied Dick.
“I hope it is nothing serious; do you come with a message for me from the President? I trust he has not seen fit to recall the expedition, and abandon the plan for exploring the Great Northwest country?” the captain shouted next, doubtless a prey to many anxieties.