OPENING THE WEST WITH
LEWIS AND CLARK

[DID THEY SET THE PRAIRIE AFIRE JUST TO BURN HIM, A BOY?]

OPENING THE WEST
WITH
LEWIS AND CLARK

BY BOAT, HORSE AND FOOT UP THE GREAT RIVER MISSOURI, ACROSS THE STONY MOUNTAINS AND ON TO THE PACIFIC, WHEN IN THE YEARS 1804, 1805, 1806, YOUNG CAPTAIN LEWIS THE LONG KNIFE AND HIS FRIEND CAPTAIN CLARK THE RED HEAD CHIEF, AIDED BY SACAJAWEA THE BIRD-WOMAN, CONDUCTED THEIR LITTLE BAND OF MEN TRIED AND TRUE THROUGH THE UNKNOWN NEW UNITED STATES

BY
EDWIN L. SABIN

AUTHOR OF “THE GOLD SEEKERS OF ’49,”
“WITH SAM HOUSTON IN TEXAS,” ETC.

FRONTISPIECE BY
CHARLES H. STEPHENS

PHILADELPHIA & LONDON

J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY

COPYRIGHT, 1917, BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY

TWELFTH IMPRESSION

PRINTED IN UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

TO THE

WESTERN RED MAN

WHO FIRST OWNED FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, BUT WHOM THE WHITE MEN THAT CAME AFTER LEWIS AND CLARK TREATED NEITHER WISELY NOR WELL

“Our Country’s glory is our chief concern;

For this we struggle, and for this we burn;

For this we smile, for this alone we sigh;

For this we live, for this we freely die.”

FOREWORD

As time passes, the famous Lewis and Clark Expedition, fathered by the great President Jefferson, should shine brighter and brighter amidst the other pages of American history.

The purchase of the Province of Louisiana was opposed by many citizens. They were ignorant and short-sighted; they asserted that here was a useless burden of waste land fitted only to the Indian and the fur-trader; that the people of the United States should occupy themselves with the land east of the Mississippi.

But wiser men prevailed. The expedition launched boldly out into the unknown, to carry the flag now into the new country, and perhaps to make possible the ownership of still a farther country, at the Pacific Ocean.

Time proved the wisdom of President Jefferson’s preparations made even before the territory had been bought. Just at the right moment the trail across the continent was opened. Louisiana Territory was valued at its future worth; the people were informed of its merits and possibilities; after the return of the explorers, the American citizens pressed forward, to see for themselves. And in due course the flag floated unchallenged in that Oregon where, also, the Lewis and Clark men had blazed the way.

I should like to have been under Captain Meriwether Lewis, turning thirty, and Captain William Clark, scant thirty-four. They were true leaders: brave, patient, resourceful and determined. And the company that followed them were likewise, brave, patient, resourceful and determined. These qualities are what bound them all together—the American, the Frenchman, the Indian—as one united band, and brought them through, triumphant.

Edwin L. Sabin

Denver, Colorado

CONTENTS

THE EXPEDITION

THE RANK AND FILE

Captain Meriwether Lewis
(The Long Knife)

Born August 18, 1774, of Scotch ancestry, on the Ivy Creek plantation near Charlottesville, Albemarle Co., Virginia, and three miles from Monticello, the estate of Thomas Jefferson.

Father—William Lewis.

Mother—Lucy Meriwether.

Having fought bravely through the Revolution, after the successful siege of Yorktown ending the war, his father dies, in 1782.

In due time his mother marries a friend of the family, Captain John Marks, and removes to Georgia.

Little Meriwether is reared, with his brother Reuben and his sister Jane, younger than he, at Locust Hill, the family home, and also spends much time at “The Farm,” of his uncle Nicholas Lewis, adjoining Monticello.

A lad of bold spirit, at eight years of age he is accustomed to sally forth alone with his dogs, at night, and hunt.

At thirteen, is placed in a Latin school, under Parson Maury, to study.

At eighteen, in 1792, he volunteers to Thomas Jefferson, then President Washington’s Secretary of State, to explore up the Missouri River to the Pacific Coast for the American Philosophical Society. A distinguished scientist, André Michaux, is selected, but the plan is given up.

At twenty, volunteers in the militia, at the call of President Washington for troops to put down the Whiskey Rebellion in Western Pennsylvania. Is soon commissioned a lieutenant in the regular army.

At twenty-three, commissioned captain.

At twenty-seven, in 1801, is appointed by President Jefferson his private secretary.

At twenty-nine, in 1803, is appointed by the president to head the government exploring expedition up the Missouri River and on across to the Pacific Ocean.

Leaves Washington July 5, 1803.

1804—1805—1806 is engaged in the exploration. The Indians name him the Long Knife.

1807, appointed governor of Louisiana Territory, with headquarters in St. Louis.

October 10, 1809, on his way by horse from St. Louis to Washington, while at a settler’s cabin in present Lewis Co., Tennessee, 72 miles southwest of Nashville, he is shot, either by himself or by an assassin, and dies the next day, October 11. He is there buried. A monument has been erected over his grave.

Captain William Clark
(The Red Head)

Born August 1, 1770, in Caroline Co., tide-water Virginia.

Father—John Clark, of old Virginia Cavalier stock.

Mother—Ann Rogers, descendant of John Rogers, the “Martyr of Smithfield” burned at the stake in 1555, in England, for his religious beliefs.

William is the ninth of ten children, two others of whom have red hair. Five of his brothers enlist in the Revolution. One of these was the famous General George Rogers Clark, the “Hannibal of the West,” who saved Kentucky and the Ohio country from the British and Indians.

The Clarks and the Lewises are well acquainted. George Rogers Clark was born at Charlottesville, and members of the Clark family frequently ride over there.

Little William early shows a love for frontier life.

After the close of the Revolution the Clarks remove, by horse and wagon, from Caroline Co., Virginia, to Western Kentucky, and establish themselves in a stockade and blockhouse overlooking the Ohio River, three miles below Louisville, then known as the Falls of the Ohio; Mulberry Hill, the new home is christened.

Young William wears buckskins and moccasins, shoots deer and buffalo, takes many trips with the famous Kentucky frontiersmen, and has for friend and teacher Daniel Boone.

In 1788, at seventeen years of age, he is commissioned ensign in the regular army.

Accompanies his brother, General George Rogers Clark, on the campaign to prevent the Indians from keeping the whites east of the Ohio River, and the Spaniards from closing the Mississippi to American commerce.

1790, acts as captain of militia.

In 1791 is commissioned first lieutenant, Fourth Sub-Legion of the army. Serves under “Mad Anthony” Wayne against the Indians in Ohio. Leads a charge at the battle of Fallen Timbers, August 20, 1794, where the celebrated chief Tecumseh is defeated.

Because of ill health, he retires from military service, in 1796, and lives at Mulberry Hill, to help his brother, the general, in business matters.

In July, 1803, accepts an offer from his friend and fellow officer, Captain Meriwether Lewis, requesting his company and assistance on an exploring trip up the Missouri River, through the Province of Louisiana, for the Government.

Is commissioned by President Jefferson second lieutenant of artillerists.

In October, 1803, he leaves with part of the expedition for St. Louis.

1804—1805—1806 is engaged in exploring to the Pacific Ocean and back. The Indians name him the Red Head.

1806, resigns his commission in the army.

1807, appointed by President Jefferson brigadier-general of the militia of Louisiana Territory and Indian agent for the Territory. Is very popular with the Indians, who revere his justness and honesty.

In 1808 marries Julia Hancock.

In 1813 is appointed governor of the Territory of Missouri.

In 1821 marries Harriet Kennerly-Radford, but is defeated in his candidacy for the governorship of the new State of Missouri.

1822, appointed by President Madison superintendent of Indian Affairs, an office which he holds until he dies.

1824 is appointed surveyor-general of Missouri, Illinois, and Arkansas Territory.

Dies September 1, 1838, at St. Louis, his long-time home, aged 68 years.

Enlisted for the Trip.

At Pittsburg, by Captain Lewis:

At Mulberry Hill, Kentucky, by Captain Clark:

At Kaskaskia Post, Illinois, by Captain Lewis:

At Fort Massac of Illinois, by Captain Clark:

Probably at St. Louis:

John Newman. Did not go through. Was punished and sent back.

Others enrolled in the party:

Chief Hunter George Drouillard (called “Drewyer”) of Kaskaskia and St. Louis. Part French, part Indian. Went through.

Head Boatman Pierre Cruzatte of St. Louis. Went through.

Boatman François Labiche of St. Louis. Went through.

Boatman —— Liberté of St. Louis. Deserted.

Trader Baptiste Lepage of the Mandan Indian town. Enlisted there to take the place of the deserter Liberté. Went through.

Trader Toussaint Chaboneau of the Mandan Indian town, where he was living with the Minnetarees. Enlisted as interpreter. Went through.

Sa-ca-ja-we-a the Bird-woman, his Sho-sho-ne Indian wife, aged sixteen. Went through.

Little Toussaint, their baby. Went through.

Engaged for Part of the Trip

At St. Louis:

Corporal Warfington and six privates, to go as far as the first winter’s camp.

Nine French boatmen, to go as far as the first winter’s camp.

On the way up from St. Louis:

Trader Pierre Dorion, to go as far as the Sioux.

I
MAKING READY

When in 1801 Thomas Jefferson became third President of the United States the nation was young. The War for Independence had been won only twenty years previous. George Washington himself had been gone but a year and four months. The Capitol was being erected on the site that he had chosen. And the western boundary of the nation was the Mississippi River.

Beyond the Mississippi extended onward to the Rocky Mountains the foreign territory of Louisiana Province. New Orleans was the capital of its lower portion, St. Louis was the capital of its upper portion. It all was assumed to be the property of Spain, until, before President Jefferson had held office a year, there spread the rumor that by a secret treaty in 1800 Spain had ceded Louisiana back to France, the first owner.

Almost another year passed. The treaty transferring Louisiana Province from Spain to France seemed to be hanging fire. The Spanish flag still floated over New Orleans and St. Louis. Then, in October, 1802, the Spanish governor at New Orleans informed the American traders and merchants that their flat-boats no longer might use the Mississippi River. New Orleans, the port through which the Mississippi River traffic reached the Gulf of Mexico, was closed to them.

From the west to the east of the United States swelled a vigorous cry of indignation against this decree that closed the Mississippi to American commerce. Hot words issued, threats were loudly spoken, and the people of the Ohio Valley, particularly, were ripe to seize New Orleans and re-open the big river by force of arms.

However, the Spanish governor was not within his rights, anyway. By that secret treaty, the Island of New Orleans (as it was called), through which the currents of the Mississippi flowed to the Gulf, was French property. So instead of disputing further with Spain, President Jefferson, in January, 1803, sent Robert R. Livingston, United States minister to France, the authority to buy the New Orleans gateway for $2,000,000, or, if necessitated, to offer $10,000,000.

President Jefferson was a gaunt, thin-legged, sandy-haired, homely man, careless of his clothes and simple in his customs, but he passionately loved his country, and he had great dreams for it. His dreams he made come true.

He long had been fascinated by the western half of the continent. His keen hazel eyes had pored over the rude maps, largely guesswork, sketched by adventurers and fur-hunters. These eyes had travelled up the water-way of the uncertain Missouri, to the Stony Mountains, as they were called; thence across the Stony Mountains, in search of that mysterious Columbia River, discovered and christened by an American. Twice he had urged the exploration of the Columbia region, and twice explorers had started, but had been turned back. Now, as President, he clung to his dream of gaining new lands and new commerce to the American flag; and scarcely had Minister Livingston been sent the instructions to open the Mississippi, than President Jefferson proceeded with plans for opening another, longer trail, that should reach from the Mississippi to the Pacific.

He had in mind the person who could lead on such a trip: young Captain Meriwether Lewis of the First Infantry, U. S. A.; his private secretary at $500 a year, and to him like an own son. They were together day and night, they loved each other.

A Virginian, of prominent family, was Captain Lewis, and now barely twenty-nine years of age. Slim, erect, sunny-haired, flashing blue-eyed, handsome and brave, he had volunteered before to explore through the farthest Northwest, but had been needed elsewhere. This time President Jefferson wisely granted him his wish, and asked him to make an estimate of the expenses for a Government exploring expedition by officers and men, from St. Louis up the Missouri River and across the mountains to the Pacific Ocean.

Young Captain Lewis figured, and soon handed in his estimate. He was of the opinion that at an expense of $2500, which would cover everything, a party of eighteen men might travel across-country from the Mississippi River, over the mountains, and to the Pacific Ocean and back again! He had figured very closely, had young Captain Lewis—perhaps because he was so anxious to go.

President Jefferson accepted the estimate of $2500, and in his message of January 18, 1803, to Congress, he proposed the expedition. He urged that at this small expense a party of soldiers, well led, could in two summers map a trail clear to the western ocean; bring back valuable information upon climate, soil and peoples, and make Americans better acquainted with their own continent; also encourage the traders and trappers to use the Missouri River as a highway to and from the Indians, thus competing with the British of Canada.

Congress voted to apply the $2500 on the proposed expedition. We may imagine how the tall, homely President Jefferson beamed—he, who so firmly believed in the expansion of American trade, and the onward march of the American flag. And we may imagine how young Captain Lewis glowed with joy, when now he might be definitely named as the leader to carry the flag.

President Jefferson advised him to go at once to Philadelphia, and study botany, geology, astronomy, surveying, and all the other sciences and methods that would enable him to make a complete report upon the new country. At Lancaster, nearby, the celebrated Henry flint-lock rifles were manufactured, and he could attend to equipping his party with these high-grade guns, turned out according to his own directions.

There should be two leaders, to provide against accident to one. Whom would he have, as comrade? He asked for his friend, William Clark, younger brother to the famed General George Rogers Clark, who in the Revolution had won the country west of the Alleghanies from the British and the Indians, afterward had saved the Ohio Valley from the angry redmen, and then had defied the Spaniards who would claim the Mississippi.

As cadet only seventeen years old, and as stripling lieutenant appointed by Washington, William Clark himself had fought to keep this fertile region white. “A youth of solid and promising parts and as brave as Cæsar,” was said of him, in those terrible days when the Shawnees, the Mohawks and all declared: “No white man’s cabin shall smoke beyond the Ohio.”

He, too, was a Virginian born, but raised in Kentucky. Now in this spring of 1803 he was verging on thirty-three years of age. He was russet-haired, gray-eyed, round-faced and large-framed—kindly, firm, and very honest.

He had retired from the army, but by rank in the militia was entitled captain. For the purposes of the expedition President Jefferson commissioned him second lieutenant of artillery.

Captain Clark was at the Clark family home of Mulberry Hill, three miles south of Louisville, Kentucky; Captain Lewis pursued his studies at Philadelphia. Meanwhile, what of Minister Livingston and the purchase from France of New Orleans—the mouth of the Mississippi?

The famous Napoleon Bonaparte was the ruler of France. He, like President Jefferson, had his dreams for the Province of Louisiana. He refused to sell the port of New Orleans. Here he intended to land soldiers and colonists, that they might proceed up-river and make of his Province of Louisiana another France.

Trouble loomed. Congress appointed James Monroe as Envoy Extraordinary and on March 8 he started for France to aid Minister Livingston. He arrived at Paris on April 12; but, lo, on the day before he arrived, a most astonishing new bargain had been offered by Napoleon and Minister Livingston was ready to accept.

The dream of Napoleon had faded. For war with England was again upon him; the British held Canada, their men-of-war were assembling off the Gulf of Mexico, Louisiana Province and New Orleans would be seized before ever France could muster a force there to resist. So rather than let England gain all this territory and wax more powerful, Napoleon, on April 11, directed his ministers to proffer to the United States not only New Orleans, but all Louisiana Province—and the deal must be closed at once!

“Take all, at 80,000,000 francs, or $15,000,000, or take nothing,” was the astounding proposal from Minister Marbois.

“I am authorized to buy New Orleans,” replied Minister Livingston.

There was no time in which to inform President Jefferson and Congress. News crossed the ocean only by slow sailing vessels. Envoy Monroe arrived; he and Minister Livingston consulted together; Napoleon was impatient, they should act quickly——

“We must do it,” they agreed. “Our country shall not lose this opportunity.”

Little minds are afraid of responsibilities; great minds are not afraid. They prefer to act as seems to them they ought to act, rather than merely to play safe. Monroe and Livingston were true patriots. They thought not of themselves, but of their country, and risked rebuke for exceeding their instructions.

On April 30 they signed the papers which engaged the United States to purchase all of Louisiana. The French ministers signed. On May 2 Napoleon signed. The papers were immediately mailed for the approval of Congress.

And Congress did approve, on October 17. Thus, for less than three cents an acre, the United States acquired from the Mississippi River to the summits of the Rocky Mountains. The amount paid over was $11,400,000; $3,750,000 was applied on French debts.

The ship bearing the papers signed by Ministers Livingston and Monroe, and by the government of France, did not reach the United States until July. Down to that time President Jefferson had no knowledge of the fact that his expedition, as planned, was to explore not French territory, but American. But when the news broke, he was all ready for it—he needed only to go ahead. That is one secret of success: to be prepared to step instantly from opportunity to opportunity as fast as they occur. The successful, energetic man is never surprised by the unexpected.

Captain Lewis had been kept very busy: studying science at Philadelphia, inspecting his flint-locks at Lancaster, storing them and gathering supplies at the arsenal of Harper’s Ferry. June 20 he received his written instructions.

He was to ascend the Missouri River from St. Louis to its source, and by crossing the mountains and following down other streams, endeavor to come out at the mouth of the Columbia on the Pacific coast. It was hoped that he would find a way by water clear through. He was to make a complete record of his journey: noting the character of the country, its rivers, climate, soil, animals, products, and peoples; and particularly the Indians, their laws, languages, occupations—was to urge peace upon them, inform them of the greatness of the white United States, encourage them to sell us their goods and to visit us.

When he reached the Pacific Ocean, he was to ship two of his party by vessel, if he found one there, for the United States, by way of Cape Horn, of South America, or the Cape of Good Hope, of Africa, and send a copy of his notes with them. Or he and all his party were at liberty to return that way, themselves. He was given letters to the United States consuls at Java, and the Isles of France off the African coast, and the Cape of Good Hope, and one authorizing him to obtain money, in the name of the United States, at any part of the civilized world.

All this was a large order, placed upon the shoulders of a youth of twenty-nine years; but who knew where the Missouri River trail might lead? No white man yet had followed it to its end.

Captain Lewis was at Washington, receiving those final instructions. On July 5 he should start for the west. On July 3 he wrote a farewell letter to his mother in Virginia, bidding her not to worry, and assuring her that he felt he should return safely in fifteen to eighteen months.

He did not dream—President Jefferson, his friend and backer, did not dream, or, at least, had not voiced that dream—but even while the loving letter was being penned, into the harbor of New York had sailed a ship from France, bringing the dispatches of Ministers Monroe and Livingston. The next day the news was announced at Washington. The Province of Louisiana had been bought by the United States!

This was a Fourth of July celebration with a vengeance.

Captain Lewis scarcely had time to comprehend. To-morrow he was to start, and his mind was filled with the details of preparation. But a glowing joy must have thrilled him as he realized that he was to be the first to carry the flag through that new America now a part of his own United States. Hurrah!

He had no occasion for delaying. His instructions required no change. He was eager to be off. Therefore on July 5, this 1803, he set out, and from the White House President Jefferson wished him good-speed.

II
THE START

By boat up the Potomac River from Washington hastened young Captain Lewis, to pack his arms and supplies at Harper’s Ferry, and forward them by wagon for Pittsburg. He got to Pittsburg ahead of them; and there remained until the last of August, overseeing the building of a barge or flat-boat. He enlisted some men, too—six of them, picked with care, and sworn into the service of the United States Army.

On August 31, with his recruits, on his laden flat-boat he launched out to sail, row, and float, towed by oxen (a “horn breeze,” this was termed), down the Ohio.

At Mulberry Hill, near Louisville, Captain William Clark was impatiently awaiting. He had enlisted nine men, all of Kentucky, the “dark and bloody ground.” If any men could be relied on, they would be Kentuckians, he knew. His negro servant, York, who had been his faithful body-guard since boyhood, was going, too.

Captain Clark took charge of the barge, to proceed with it and the recruits and York down the Ohio into the Mississippi, and thence up the Mississippi to St. Louis. Captain Lewis turned across country, by horse, on a short cut, to pick up more men along the way.

He struck the Mississippi River fifty miles below St. Louis, where the United States Army post of Kaskaskia faced the Province of Louisiana across the river. Here he enlisted four men more, selected from a score that eagerly volunteered. Word of the great expedition had travelled ahead of him, and he could have filled the ranks seven times over. But only the strongest, and those of clean reputation, could qualify for such a trip. These thought themselves fortunate.

Now up along the river, by military road, hastened Captain Lewis, for the old town of Cahokia, and crossed the river to St. Louis at last. He was in a hurry.

“We’ll winter at La Charette, Captain,” he had said to Captain Clark, “where Daniel Boone lives. Boone can give us valuable information, and we’ll be that far on our journey, ready for spring. Charette will be better for our men than St. Louis.”

Glad was Captain Clark to spend the months at La Charette. Daniel Boone had been his boyhood friend in Kentucky—had taught him much wood-craft. But when, in mid-December, Captain Clark, the redhead, anxious to push on to La Charette, seventy miles up the Missouri, before the ice closed, with York and his nine Kentuckians and five other recruits whom he had enlisted from Fort Massac at the mouth of the Ohio tied his keel-boat at the St. Louis levee, he was met by disagreeable information.

“We’ll have to winter here,” informed Captain Lewis. “The Spanish lieutenant-governor won’t pass us on. He claims that he has not been officially notified yet to transfer Upper Louisiana to the United States—or, for that matter, even to France. So all we can do is to make winter camp on United States soil, on the east side of the river, and wait. I’m sorry—I’ve engaged two more boats—but that’s the case.”

“All right,” assented Captain Clark. “Both sides of the river are ours, but I suppose we ought to avoid trouble.”

So the winter camp was placed near the mouth of Wood River, on the east bank of the Mississippi, about twenty miles above St. Louis. Log cabins were erected; and besides, the big keel-boat was decked fore and aft, and had a cabin and men’s quarters. Consequently nobody need suffer from the cold.

Captain Lewis stayed most of the time in St. Louis, arranging for supplies, studying medicine, astronomy, botany and other sciences, and learning much about the Indians up the Missouri. Captain Clark looked after the camp, and drilled the men almost every day.

St. Louis was then forty years old; it contained less than 200 houses, of stone and log, and about 1000 people, almost all French. The lieutenant-governor, who lived here in charge of Upper Louisiana of “the Illinois Country” (as all this section was called), was Don Carlos Dehault Delassus, also of French blood, but appointed by Spain.

Indignant now was Spain, objecting to the new ownership by the United States, and asserting that by the terms of the bargain with France that government had promised not to dispose of the province to any other nation. But this evidently had made no difference to Napoleon.

Not until November 30, of 1803, while Captain Lewis was on his road from Kaskaskia to St. Louis and Captain Clark was toiling with his keel-boat up from the mouth of the Ohio (both captains thinking that they had a clear way ahead), was the Spanish flag in New Orleans hauled down, and the French flag hoisted. On December 20 the representative of the French government there, Monsieur Pierre Clement Laussat, and his men, saluted the hoisting of the Stars and Stripes, formally delivered Lower and Upper Louisiana to the United States.

Nevertheless, Lieutenant-Governor Delassus, of Upper Louisiana, waited for official instruction. Distances were great, he wished to receive orders what to do. In St. Louis Captain Lewis waited; in the camp at Wood River Captain Clark waited; the Missouri froze over and they could not go on anyway.

Christmas was celebrated, and the memorable year 1803 merged into the new year 1804. Finally, by letter, date of January 12, 1804, from Monsieur Laussat at New Orleans, Lieutenant-Governor Delassus was notified that dispatches were on the road to Captain Amos Stoddard, of the United States Artillery, and commanding at Fort Kaskaskia, empowering him to represent France at St. Louis and take over from Spain the district of Upper Louisiana. He was then to turn it over to himself as representative of the United States.

On February 25 Captain Stoddard announced that he was ready to receive Upper Louisiana in the name of France. March 9 was set as the day. Captain Lewis was invited to be present at the ceremony, as an official witness. Captain Clark probably came over; perhaps some of the men, for all the countryside gathered at the great event.

A number of Indians from up the Mississippi and up the Missouri, and out of the plains to the west, had witnessed the ceremony of transfer. They did not understand it all. They said that the United States had captured St. Louis. On March 12 their good friend, Lieutenant-Governor Delassus, issued an address to them, explaining that now they had a new father, and he introduced to them the new United States chiefs who had come—Captain Stoddard and Captain Lewis.

But the Delawares, the Sacs, the Osages, and others—they still were dissatisfied, and especially the Osages. Captain Lewis was particularly anxious to please the Osages, for they were the first of the powerful tribes whom he might encounter, up the Missouri. He tried to talk with the chiefs in St. Louis; by a trader sent a letter on to the Osage village, asking the head chiefs to meet him at the river and exchange peace presents.

Beyond the Osages dwelt the Otoes, the Missouris, the ’Mahas (Omahas), the Sioux, the Arikaras, the Mandans, the Minnetarees; and then, who could say? Few white men, even the French traders, had been farther. How would all these tribes, known and unknown, receive the strange Americans?

Spring had come, the ice was whirling down, in rotted floes, out of the north, the channel of the crooked Missouri was clearing, and every man in the expedition was keen to be away, following the honking geese into this new America over which the flag of the United States waved at last.

Now the expedition had grown to full strength. There were the two captains; the fourteen soldiers enlisted at Pittsburg, Fort Massac and Fort Kaskaskia; the nine Kentuckians, enrolled at Mulberry Hill near Louisville; George Drouillard (or Drewyer, as he was called), the hunter from Kaskaskia who had been recommended by Captain Clark’s brother the general; Labiche and one-eyed old Cruzatte, French voyageurs or boatmen engaged by Captain Lewis at St. Louis; nine other boatmen, and Corporal Warfington and six privates from the Kaskaskia troops in St. Louis, who were to go as far as the next winter camp, and then return with records and trophies; and black York, Captain Clark’s faithful servant, who was going just as far as his master did.

So forty-five there were in all, to start. Except York, those who were going through had been sworn in as privates in the United States Army, to serve during the expedition, or until discharged on the way, if so happened. Charles Floyd, one of the young Kentuckians; Nathaniel Pryor, his cousin, and John Ordway, enrolled at Kaskaskia from among the New Hampshire company, were appointed sergeants.

For outfit they had their flint-lock rifles, especially manufactured; flint-lock pistols, hunting knives, powder contained in lead canisters or pails to be melted into bullets when emptied, tents, tools, provisions of pork, flour, etc., warm extra clothing for winter, old Cruzatte’s fiddle, George Gibson’s fiddle, medicines, including the new kine-pox with which to vaccinate the Indians, the captains’ scientific instruments, a wonderful air-gun that shot forty times without reloading, and a cannon or blunderbuss.

Seven large bales and one emergency box had been packed with their stores; and there were fourteen other bales and one sample box of gifts for the Indians: gay laced coats, flags, knives, iron tomahawks, beads, looking-glasses, handkerchiefs (red and blue), paints (yellow, blue and crimson), not forgetting three kinds of medals—first-class and second-class, of silver, and third-class, of pewter—for chiefs to hang about their necks as token of friendship from their new great white father at Washington. The knives and tomahawks had been made at Harper’s Ferry.

Three boats were ready: the keel-boat built at Pittsburg, and two pirogues bought at St. Louis. The keel-boat or batteau was to be the flag-ship. It was a kind of flat-boat or barge, fifty-five feet long; of heavy planks, with bow overhanging and a little pointed, and square overhanging stern fitted with a keel and with a tiller rudder. It had places for eleven oars on a side, and carried a sail. Along either gunwale was a plank path or walking-board, from which the men might push with poles.

Much ingenuity and care had Captain Lewis spent on this flag-ship. Under a deck at the bows the crew might sleep; and under the deck at the stern was the cabin for the officers; in the middle were lockers, for stowing stuff—and the lids when raised formed a line of breastworks against bullets and arrows! The blunderbuss was mounted in the bows, the flag floated from a staff. The boat drew only three feet of water.

The two pirogues were smaller, open flat-boats or barges; one painted red, the other white; one fitted with six oars, the other with seven. They also had sails.

At Harper’s Ferry Captain Lewis had ordered the steel framework of a canoe. This was “knocked down,” in sections, and stowed in the keel-boat, later to be put together and covered with bark or skins, for use in the shallow waters far up-river.

And there were two horses, which should accompany the boats by land, for scouting and hunting purposes.

April passed; May arrived. The Missouri was reported free of ice, and was rising rapidly. The trees had budded and greened, the grasses were getting high, game would be plentiful, the Indians would be leaving their villages for their spring hunts, and ’twas time that the expedition should start. In their camp at Wood River the men drew on the supply of quill pens, ink horns and paper and wrote farewell letters home. In St. Louis Captain Clark and Captain Lewis were given farewell dinners. By Doctor Saugrain, the learned physician and scientist under whom he was studying, Captain Lewis was presented with a handful of matches—curious little sticks which, when briskly rubbed against something, burst into flame. The Indians would marvel at these.

Shortly before four o’clock in the afternoon of May 14, this 1804, the start was made. The St. Louis people gathered along the river bank on that side, to watch the boats move up. The blunderbuss was discharged, in salute; the cannon of the fort answered. Captain Clark, bidding goodbye from the deck of the keel-boat, was in full dress uniform of red-trimmed blue coat and trousers, and gold epaulets, his sword at his belt, his three-cornered chapeau on his red head. The sails swelled in the breeze, the men at the oars sang in French and shouted in English. Drewyer the hunter rode one horse and led the other. All, save Captain Clark, were dressed for business—Corporal Warfington’s squad from St. Louis in United States uniform, the nine Kentuckians in buckskins, the fourteen soldiers and civilians, enlisted at the posts, in flannel shirts and trousers of buckskin or coarse army cloth, the French boatmen in brightly fringed woollens, with scarlet ’kerchiefs about their heads. Rain was falling, but who cared!

Captain Lewis did not accompany. He was detained to talk more with the Osages who had come down. He hoped yet to make things clear to them. But he would join the boats at the village of St. Charles, twenty miles above.

In the sunshine of May 16 they tied to the bank at St. Charles. At the report of the cannon—boom!—the French villagers, now Americans all, came running down and gave welcome.

Sunday the 20th Captain Lewis arrived by skiff from St. Louis, and with him an escort of the St. Louis people, again to cheer the expedition on its way. Not until Monday afternoon, the 21st, was the expedition enabled to tear itself from the banquets and hand-shakings, and onward fare in earnest, against the wind and rain.

Tawny ran the great Missouri River, flooded with the melted snows of the wild north, bristling with black snags, and treacherous with shifting bars. On either hand the banks crashed in, undermined by the changing currents. But rowing, poling, hauling with ropes, and even jumping overboard to shove, only occasionally aided by favoring breeze, the men, soldiers and voyageurs alike, worked hard and kept going. On leaving St. Charles the two captains doffed their uniforms until the next dress-up event, and donned buckskins and moccasins.

Past La Charette, the settlement where Daniel Boone lived—the very last white settlement on the Missouri, toiled the boats; now, beyond, the country was red. Past the mouth of the Osage River up which lived the Osage Indian; but no Osages were there to treat with them. Past the mouth of the Kansas River, and the Little Platte; and still no Indians appeared, except some Kickapoos bringing deer. Rafts were encountered, descending with the first of the traders bringing down their winter’s furs: a raft from the Osages, shouting that the Osages would not believe that St. Louis had been “captured,” and had burnt the Captain Lewis message; from the Kansas, from the Pawnees up the Big Platte, from the Sioux of the far north.

Off a Sioux raft old Pierre Dorion, one of the traders, was hired by the captains to go with the expedition up to the Sioux, and make them friendly. He had lived among the Yankton Sioux twenty years.

Through June and July, without especial incident, the expedition voyaged ever up-river into the northwest, constantly on the look-out for Indians with whom to talk.

The two captains regularly wrote down what they saw and did and heard; a number of the men also kept diaries. Sergeant Charles Floyd, Sergeant John Ordway, Sergeant Nathaniel Pryor, Private Patrick Gass, Private Joseph Whitehouse, Private Robert Frazier and Private Alexander Willard—they faithfully scrawled with their quill pens, recording each day’s events as they saw them. The journals of Floyd, Gass, and Whitehouse have been published, so that we may read them as well as the journals of the captains.

Not until the first of August, and when almost fifty miles above the mouth of the Platte River, was the first council with the Indians held. Here a few Otoes and Missouris came in, at a camping-place on the Nebraska side of the Missouri, christened by the two captains the Council-bluffs, from which the present Iowa city of Council Bluffs, twenty miles below and opposite, takes its name.

Now in the middle of August the expedition is encamped at the west side of the river, about fifteen miles below present Sioux City, Iowa, waiting to talk with the principal chiefs of the Otoes and the Omahas, and hoping to establish a peace between them. But the Omahas had fled from the small-pox, and the Otoes were slow to come in.

The voyageur Liberté and the soldier Moses Reed were missing from the camp; a party had been sent out to capture them as deserters.

Eight hundred and thirty-six miles had been logged off, from St. Louis, in the three months.

Here the story opens.

OPENING THE WEST WITH LEWIS AND CLARK

I
THE COMING OF THE WHITE CHIEFS

“They are many,” reported Shon-go-ton-go, or Big Horse, sub-chief of the Otoes.

“How many?” asked We-ah-rush-hah, or Little Thief, the head chief.

“As many,” replied Big Horse, “as five times the fingers on two hands.”

“Wah!” gravely grunted the circle, where the chiefs and warriors squatted in their blankets and buffalo robes.

For August, the Ripe Corn month, of 1804, had arrived to the Oto Indians’ country in present Nebraska beyond the Missouri River; but now at their buffalo-hunt camp north of the River Platte the chiefs of the combined Oto and Missouri nations sat in solemn council instead of chasing the buffalo.

Through a long time, or since the month when the buffalo begin to shed, the air had been full of rumors. Five moons back, when the cottonwood buds first swelled, down at the big white village of “San Loui’” there had been a ceremony by which, according to the best word, all this vast land watered by the Missouri River had changed white fathers. The Spanish father’s flag had been hauled down, and a different flag had been raised. Indians had been there and had seen; yes, Shawnees, Saukies, Delawares, Osages—they had been there, and had seen. The Spanish governor, whose name was Delassus, had made a speech, to the white people. He had said:

PROCLAMATION

March 9, 1804.

Inhabitants of Upper Louisiana:

By the King’s command, I am about to deliver up this post and its dependences!

The flag under which you have been protected for a period of nearly thirty-six years is to be withdrawn. From this moment you are released from the oath of fidelity you took to support it.

The speech was hard to understand, but there it was, tacked up on the white man’s talking paper. Moreover, the good governor had made a talk for the Indians also, his red children. He had said:

Your old fathers, the Spaniard and the Frenchman, who grasp by the hand your new father, the head chief of the United States, by an act of their good will, and in virtue of their last treaty, have delivered up to them all these lands. They will keep and defend them, and protect all the white and red skins who live thereon.

For several days we have fired off cannon shots to announce to all the nations that your father, the Spaniard, is going, his heart happy to know that you will be protected and sustained by your new father, and that the smoke of the powder may ascend to the Master of Life, praying him to shower on you all a happy destiny and prosperity in always living in good union with the whites.

Up the great river and into the west, by traders and runners had come the tidings.

Who were these United States? What kind of a man was the new white father? He was sending a party of his warriors, bearing presents and peace talk. They already had ascended the big river, past the mouth of the Platte. They had dispatched messengers to the Otoes and the Missouris, asking them to come in to council. But the Otoes and Missouris had left their village where they lived with their friends the Pawnees, in order to hunt the buffalo before gathering their corn, and only by accident had the invitation reached them.

Then Shon-go-ton-go and We-the-a and Shos-gus-can and others had gone; and had returned safe and satisfied. They had returned laden with gifts—paint and armlets and powder, and medals curiously figured, hung around their necks by the two white chiefs themselves. They had hastened to seek out We-ah-rush-hah, the head chief, in his camp, and report.

The white chiefs were waiting to treat with him, as was proper, and they had sent to him a bright colored flag, and ornaments, and a medal.

“What do the white chiefs want?” queried We-ah-rush-hah.

“They say that the new white father will be generous with the Otoes and Missouris, and wishes us to be at peace with our enemies.”

“Will he protect us from those robbers, the Omahas?”

“He wishes us to make peace with the Omahas. The United States would go with us to the Omahas, but we told them we were afraid. We are poor and weak and the Omahas would kill us.”

“Good,” approved We-ah-rush-hah.

“There are two of the white chiefs,” added We-the-a, or Hospitable One, the Missouri chief. “They wear long knives by their sides. Their hair is of strange color. The hair of one is yellow like ripe corn; the hair of the other is red as pipe-stone. The Red Head is big and pleasant; the yellow-haired one is slim and very straight, and when he speaks he does not smile. Yes, the Red Head is a buffalo, but the other is an elk.”

“They have three boats,” added Shos-gus-can, or White Horse, who was an Oto. “One boat is larger than any boat of any trader. It has a gun that talks in thunder. Of the other boats, one is painted white, one is painted red. The chiefs are dressed in long blue shirts that glitter with shining metal. The party are strong in arms. They have much guns, and powder and lead, and much medicine. They have a gun that shoots with air, and shoots many times. It is great medicine. They have a man all black like a buffalo in fall, with very white teeth and short black hair, curly like a buffalo’s. He is great medicine. They carry a white flag with blue and red borders. Red, white and blue are their medicine colors. The flag is their peace sign. There are French with them, from below, and another, a trader from the Sioux. They received us under a white lodge, and have named the place the Council-bluffs. They must be of a great nation.”

“I will go and see these United States, and talk with them,” announced Little Thief, majestically. “Their presents have been good, their words sound good. It is unwise to refuse gifts laid upon the prairie. If indeed we have a new father for all the Indians, maybe by listening to his chiefs we can get more from him than we did from our Spanish father. I will go and talk, at the burnt Omaha village. Let the four white men who have come with gifts and a message, seeking brothers-who-have-run-away, be well treated, so that we shall be well treated also.”

Then the council broke up.

On the outskirts, a boy, Little White Osage, had listened with all his ears. The affair was very interesting. A hot desire filled his heart to go, himself, and see these United States warriors, with their painted boats and their marvelous guns and their black medicine-man and their two chiefs whose hair was different, like his own hair.

His own hair was brown and fine instead of being black and coarse, and his eyes were blue instead of black, and his skin, even in its tan, was light instead of dark. Sometimes he was puzzled to remember just how he had come among the Otoes. He did not always feel like an Indian. To be sure, he had been bought from the Osages by the Otoes; but away, ’way back there had been a woman, a light-haired, soft-skinned woman, among the Osages, who had kissed him and hugged him and had taught him a language that he well-nigh had forgotten.

Occasionally one of those strange words rose to his lips, but he rarely used it, because the Osages, and now the Otoes, did not wish him to use it.

The Otoes called him Little White Osage, as a kind of slur. Nobody kissed him and hugged him, but in their ill-natured moments the Oto squaws beat him, and the children teased him. The squaws never beat the other boys. Antoine, the French trader, was kinder to him. But Antoine had married an Oto woman, and all his children were dark and Indian.

“At the burnt Omaha village,” had said Chief Little Thief.

Little White Osage knew where this was. The United States chiefs, by their messengers, had invited Little Thief to meet them at the principal Omaha Indian village, so that peace might be made between the Omahas and the Otoes. But the village had been smitten by a sickness—the smallpox, old Antoine had named it, and the frightened Omahas had burned their lodges and had fled, such as were able. Only the site of the village remained, and its graves.

It would be of no use to try to go with the chief’s party. They would not want boys, and especially a boy who was not like other Indian boys, and bore a name of the hated Osages. Therefore, this night, in the dusk, he slipped from under his thin blanket in the skin lodge, where slumbered old Antoine and family, and scuttled, bending low, out into the prairie.

He would have sought the four white men who had come from the United States chiefs’ camp, but they had left, looking for two other men who had strayed. And besides, he didn’t feel certain that they would help him.

The prairie was thick with high grasses, and with bushes whereon berries were ripening; he wore only a cloth about his waist, on his feet moccasins, but he did not mind, for his skin was tough. He carried his bow, of the yellow osage wood, and slung under his left arm his badger-hide quiver containing blunt reed arrows.

The damp night air was heavy with smoke, for the prairies had been fired in order to drive out the game. Now and then he startled some animal. Eyes glowed at him, and disappeared, and a shadowy form loped away. That was a wolf. He was not afraid of any cowardly wolf. Larger forms bolted, with snorts. They were antelope. To a tremendous snort a much larger form bounded from his path. That was an elk. But he hastened on at a trot and fast walk, alert and excited, his nostrils and eyes and ears wide, while he ever kept the North Star before him on his left.

It seemed long ere in the east, whither he was hurrying, the stars were paling. On his swift young legs he had covered many miles. None of the Oto or Missouri boys could have done better, but he simply had to rest. The dawn brightened; he should eat and hide himself and sleep. So he paused, to make plans.

“Wah!” And “Hoorah!” “Hoorah!” was one of those strange words which would rise to his lips. Far before him, although not more than three or four hours’ travel, was a low line of trees marking the course of the big river. He took a step; from a clump of brush leaped a rabbit—and stopped to squat. Instantly Little White Osage had strung bow, fitted arrow, and shot. The arrow thudded, the rabbit scarcely kicked. Picking him up, Little White Osage trotted on, his breakfast in hand.

Now he smelled smoke stronger, and scouting about he cautiously approached a smouldering camp-fire. Omahas? But he espied nobody moving, or lying down. It was an old camp-fire. Around it he discovered in the dust that had been stirred up, the prints of boots. The white men had been here—perhaps the messengers to the camp of Little Thief. Good! He might cook his rabbit; and sitting, he did cook it after he had built the fire into more heat. He ate. Then he curled in the grass, like a brown rabbit himself, and slept.

When he wakened, the sun was high. He stretched; peered, to be safe; drank from a nearby creek, and set forward again. Nearer he drew to the big river, and nearer; and he had to move more carefully lest the Omahas should be lurking at their village, and sight him. The Omahas would be glad to capture anybody from the Otoes. There was no peace between the two peoples.

The ruined village lay lifeless and black, with its graves on the hill above it. He circled the village, and found a spot whence he could gaze down.

The broad big river flowed evenly between its low banks; curving amidst the willows and cottonwoods and sand-bars, it was the highway for the great white village of “San Loui’,” at its mouth many days to the south. It led also up into the country of the Mandans and the fierce Sioux, in the unknown north. And yonder, on a sand sprit above the mouth of the Omaha Creek, was the white chiefs’ camp!

With his sharp eyes Little White Osage eagerly surveyed. Three boats there were, just as said by Shos-gus-can: one painted white, and one painted red, and one very large, fastened in the shallows. On the sand were kettles, over fires, and many men moving about, or lying under a canopy; and a red, white and blue flag flying in the breeze.

A party were leaving the camp, and coming toward him. They could not see him—he was too cleverly hidden in the bushes, above. Wading through the grasses waist high they made for the creek and halted where the beavers had dammed it into a pond. These were white men, surely. They numbered the fingers on two hands, and three more fingers. They carried guns, and a net of branches and twigs; and one, a tall straight man, wore at his side a long knife in a sheath which flashed. He had on his head a queer three-cornered covering. He was the leader, for when he spoke and pointed, the other men jumped to obey.

They walked into the water, to net fish. They hauled and tugged and plashed and laughed and shouted; and when they emerged upon the bank again their net was so heavy that the leader sprang to help them. He tossed aside his head covering. His hair was bright like ripe corn. One of the two chiefs, he!

What a lot of fish they brought out! Hundreds of them sparkled in the sun. This sport continued until near sunset, when the men all went away, to eat and sleep.

At dusk Little White Osage stole down to the creek. Some of the fish were scattered about, but they were stiff and dull; he could not eat them without cooking them and he was afraid to risk a fire. So he gathered mussels and clams, and these were pretty good, raw.

That night the camp-fires of the “’Nited States” warriors blazed on the beach at the river; in the grasses of a hollow above the creek Little White Osage finally slept.

Therefore another morning dawned and found him still here, waiting to see what the new whites would do next. But he must not be caught by Chief Little Thief and old Antoine, or they would punish him.

The United States were eating. Almost could he smell the meat on the fires. After eating, the camp busied itself in many ways. Some of the men again walked up the creek. Others raised a pole, or mast, on the largest boat. Others swam and frolicked in the river. Evidently the camp was staying for the arrival of We-ah-rush-hah.

But that meat! The thought of it made the mouth of Little White Osage to water. Well, he must go and find something and cook it where he would be safe, and then return to those women and children who did not like him. He had seen the “’Nited States,” and their chief with the yellow hair. Maybe he had seen the red-hair chief, too.

He crept on hands and knees, until he might trudge boldly, aiming northward so as not to meet with Little Thief. When after a time he looked back, toward the river, he saw a great smoke rising. The United States had set the prairie afire!

Hah! That they had! [Did they set the prairie afire just to burn him, a boy?] Had they known that he was watching them, and had that made them angry? The smoke increased rapidly—broadened and billowed. The prairie breeze puffed full and strong from the southeast, and the pungent odor of burning grasses swept across his quivering nostrils. The fire was pursuing him. It had cut off any retreat to the big river waters; it was swifter than an antelope, on his trail. Very cunning and cruel were those “’Nited States” men.

Through the tall dry grasses strained Little White Osage, seeking refuge. He sobbed in his husky throat. If he might but reach that line of sand hills, yonder, they would break the wall of fire and save him. It was such a big fire to send after such a small boy. Now the sun was veiled by the scudding smoke, and the wind blew acrid and hot. Before him fled animals—racing antelope and bounding elk, galloping wolves and darting birds. They were fast; but he—alas, he was too slow, and he was weak and tired. Was he to be burned? He threw aside his quiver, and next his bow. They felt so heavy.

The fire was close. He could hear the crackle and the popping as it devoured everything. The sand hills were mocking him; they seemed to sneak backward as he toiled forward. Suddenly, panting and stumbling, he burst into a little clearing, where the grasses were short. In the midst of the clearing lay the carcass of a buffalo bull.

With dimmed staring eyes Little White Osage, casting wildly about for shelter, saw. He saw the carcass, partially cut up; the meat had been piled on the hide, as if the hunters had left, to get it another time; and on the meat was planted a ramrod or wiping-stick, with a coat hung on it, to keep off the wolves. But nobody was here.

Not in vain had Little White Osage been trained to look out for himself. Now he knew what he could do. He staggered for the meat-pile; frantically tore it away, but not to eat it. He barely could lift the great hide, but lift it he did; wriggled underneath, drew it over him, and crouched there, gasping.

Crackle, pop, roar—and the wall of fire charged the clearing, dashed into it, licked hotly across it, and snatched at the robe. He felt the robe shrivel and writhe, and smelled the stench of sizzling flesh and hair. He could scarcely breathe. Over him the buffalo hide was scorching through and through. How the fire roared, how the wind blew; but neither fire nor wind could get at him through that tough, inch-thick canopy. Almost smothered by heat and smoke, Little White Osage cringed, waiting. He was a wee bit afraid.

Soon he knew that the fire had passed. He ventured to raise an edge of the hide and peek from under. Smoke wafted into his face and choked him. Black lay the cindered land around; the fire was surging on to the west, where the sand hills would stop it, but it had mowed a path too hot to walk on, yet. He must stay awhile.

He reached out a hand and dragged to him a piece of the charred bloody buffalo meat, and nibbled at it. Over him the buffalo hide had stiffened, to form a pup-tent; and really he was not so very uncomfortable. He ate, and stretching the best that he might, pillowed his face on his bended arm. Next, he was asleep—tired Little White Osage.

He slept with an ear open, for voices and tread of feet aroused him. People were coming. He craned his neck to peer about—and ducked further inside, like a turtle inside its shell.

Two persons had arrived in the clearing. They were walking straight toward him. They were white men. They were some of those United States warriors!

A moment more, and a heavy foot kicked the hide—thump!—and hands ruthlessly overthrew it. Exposed, Little White Osage sprang erect, gained his feet at a bound, stood bravely facing the two warriors of the “’Nited States.” He would not show them that he feared.

“B’gorry,” exclaimed a voice, “here’s a quare pea in a pod!”

II
PETER GOES ABOARD

Little White Osage did not understand the words, but they were said with a laugh. He could only stare.

Two, were these United States men. The one who had spoken was short and broad and quick, like a bear. He had a lean freckled face and shrewd twinkling grey eyes. He wore a blue shirt, and belted trousers, and boots, and on his head a wide-brimmed black hat. Leaning upon a long-barrelled flint-lock gun, he laughed.

The other man was younger—much younger, almost too young to take the war path. He was smooth-faced and very blue-eyed. He wore a blue shirt, too, and fringed buckskin trousers, and moccasins, and around his black hair a red handkerchief, gaily tied.

But as his hair was black, he could not be one of the chiefs. The short man’s hair was not black, but it was the color of wet sand—and so he could not be one of the chiefs.

Now the young warrior spoke and his voice was sweet.

“Who are you, boy?”

This Little White Osage did understand. The words penetrated through as from a distance. There had been a long time since he had heard such words. His throat swelled to answer.

“Boy,” he stammered.

“I see. What boy? Oto?”

Little White Osage shook his head.

“Missouri?”

Little White Osage shook his head.