The Young Alaskans on the Missouri Part 24

"But I don't think the Indian girl knew anything much about the Snake, though her people hunted all these branches. Her range was on the Jefferson. She was young, too. Anyhow, that's what they called the Missouri, till she began to peter out. That was where they named this place where we are now. They concluded, since all the three rivers run so near even, and split so wide, they'd call them after three great men, Jefferson, Madison, and Gallatin. But that wasn't till two weeks after they'd left the Forks. Most folks thought they'd sprung the names as soon as they seen the Forks, but they didn't.

"Lots of people right in here, too, even now, they think that Lewis and Clark wintered right here at the Forks or on up near Dillon. I've heard them argue that and get hot over it. Some said they wintered on an island, near Dillon. Of course, they allow that Lewis and Clark got across, but they say they was gone three years, not two. That's about as much as the old _Journal_ is known to-day!

"Me living in here, I know all the creeks from here to the Sawtooth and Bitter Roots, and my dad knew them, and I'll tell you it's a fright, even now, to follow out exactly where all they went, or just how they got over. The names on most of their creeks are changed now, so you can't hardly tell them. About the best book to follow her through on is that railroad man, Wheeler. He took a pack train, most ways, and stayed with it.

"People get all mixed up on the old stuff, because we travel by rail now, so much. For instance, Beaverhead Rock--and that's been a landmark ever since Lewis and Clark come through--is disputed even now. You can start a fight down at Dillon any time by saying that their Beaverhead Rock is really Rattlesnake Rock--though I'll have to own it looks a lot more like a beaver than the real rock does. That real one now is mostly called the Point of Rocks.

"That's the way it goes, you see--everything gets all mixed up. The miners named a lot of the old Lewis and Clark streams all over again.

Boulder Creek once was Frazier's Creek; Philosophy Creek they changed to Willow Creek, just to be original. The Blacktail, away up in, was first named after McNeal, and the North Boulder, this side of there, was first called after Fields. The Pipestone used to be the Panther. You know the Big Hole River, of course, where b.u.t.te gets the city water piped from--used to be fine fishing till they spoiled it by fishing it to death--well, that was called Wisdom River by Lewis. And I think if he'd been right wise, he'd have left his boats at the mouth and started right up there, on foot, and not up the Jefferson. She was shallow, but if he'd only known it, she'd have led him to the Divide easier than the way they went, and saved a lot of time. But, of course, they didn't know that."

"Go on, Billy, go on!" said Rob, eagerly. "You're the first man I ever knew who'd actually been over this ground in here. All we've done has been to read about it; and that's different. A country on a map is one thing, but a country lying out of doors on the ground is different."

"I'll agree to that," said Billy. "If you ever once figure out a country by yourself, you never get lost in it again. You can easy get lost with a map and a compa.s.s.

"Well now, the miners changed more names, too. It was on Willard's Creek, named after one of the Lewis and Clark men, that they found the gold at Bannack camp. They called that Gra.s.shopper Creek and left poor Willard out. And then they called the Philanthropy River, which comes in from the south, opposite to the Wisdom--Lewis called them that because Thomas Jefferson was so wise and so philanthropic, you know--well, they changed that to the Stinking Water!

"Yet 'Philanthropy' would have been a good name for that. On one of the side creeks to it they found Alder Gulch in 1863; and Alder Gulch put Montana on the map and started the bull outfits moving out from Benton, at the head of navigation. That's where Virginia City is now. Nice little town, but not wild like she was.

"Now, the old trail--where the road agents used to waylay the travelers--led from Bannack to the Rattlesnake, down the Rattlesnake to the Jefferson, down the Jefferson to the Beaverhead Rock, then across the Jefferson and over the Divide to Philanthropy. And that was one sweet country to live in, in those days, my dad said! The road agents had a fine organization, and they knew every man going out with dust. So they'd lay in wait and kill him. They killed over a hundred men, that way, till the Vigilantes broke in on them. The best men in early Montana were among the Vigilantes--all the law-and-order men were. But right from where we're standing now, on the Lewis Rock, you're looking over one of the wildest parts of this country, or any other country. You ought to read Langford's book, _Vigilante Days and Ways_. I've got that in my library, up at my ranch, too."

"You know your part of this country mighty well, Billy," said Uncle d.i.c.k, after a time. "I've known you did, for a long time."

"I love it, that's all!" said the young ranchman.

"Now what shall we do, sir?" he added, after a time; "go on up to my ranch, or go on to the mouth of the Columbia River, or go to the true head of the Missouri River, or go back to Great Falls--or what?"

"What do you want to do, Billy?"

"Anything suits me. Barring the towns, I can go anywhere on earth with Sleepy and n.i.g.g.e.r, and almost anywhere on earth with my flivver. I wouldn't stay here for a camp, because it's not convenient. The mosquitoes are about done now, and the camping's fine all over.

Fishing's good, too, right now; and I know where they are."

"I'll tell you," said Uncle d.i.c.k; "we'll move up one more march or so, to the Beaverhead Rock. We'll camp there, and make a little more medicine before we decide.

"I came here"--he turned to the others--"to have you see the sunset, here on the old range. Are you satisfied with the trip thus far?"

"We'd not have missed it for the world," said Rob, at once. "It's the best we've ever had. In our own country--and finding out for ourselves how they found our country for us! That's what I call fine!"

"Roll up the plunder for to-night," said Uncle d.i.c.k. "The sunset's over."

CHAPTER XXIV

NEARING THE SOURCE

"Well, Jesse, how'd you sleep last night?" inquired Billy in the morning, as he pushed the coffee pot back from the edge of the little fire and turned to Jesse when he emerged from his blankets.

"Not too well," answered Jesse, rubbing his eyes. "Fact is, it's too noisy in this country. Up North where we used to live, it was quiet, unless the dogs howled; but in here there's towns and railroads all over--more than a dozen towns we pa.s.sed, coming up from the Great Falls, and if you don't hear the railroad whistles all night, you think you do.

Down right below us, you can throw a rock into the town, almost, and up at the Forks there'll be another squatting down waiting for you. All right for gasoline, Billy, but we're supposed to be using the tracking line and setting pole."

"Sure we are--until we meet the Shoshonis and get some horses."

"Well, I don't want to camp by a railroad or a wire fence any more."

"No? Well, we'll see what we can do. Anyhow, one thing you ought to be glad about."

"What's that?"

"Why, that you don't have to walk down into that ice water and pole a boat or drag it for two or three hours before breakfast. Yet that's what those poor men had to do. And three times they mention, between the Forks and the mountains, the whole party had to wait breakfast till somebody killed some meat. Anyhow, we've got some eggs and marmalade."

"Well, they got meat," demurred Jesse, seating himself as he laced his shoes.

"Thanks to Drewyer, they usually did. He got five deer, one day, and about every time he went out he hung up something. I think he'd got to the front in the party now, next to Lewis and Clark. Chaboneau they don't speak well of.

"Shields was a good man, and the two Fields boys. But, though Clark was mighty sick, and Lewis got down, too, for a day or so, in here, they were about the best men left. The others were wearing out by now.

"You see"--here Billy flipped a cake over in the pan--"they couldn't have had much wool clothing left by now--they were in buckskin, and buckskin is about as good as brown paper when it's wet. They had no hobnails, and their broken, wet moccasins slipped all over those slick round stones. You ever wade a trout stream, you boys?"

"I should say so!"

"Well, then you know how it is. While the water is below your knees you can stand it quite a while. When it gets along your thighs you begin to get cold. When it's waist deep, you chill mighty soon and can't stand it long--though Lewis stripped and dived in eight feet of water to get an otter he had shot. And slipping on wet rocks----"

"Don't we know about that! We waded up the Rat River, on the Arctic Circle."

"You did! You've traveled like that? Well, then you can tell what the men were standing here. They hadn't half clothes, a lot of them were sick with boils and 'tumers,' as Clark calls them. Some were nearly crippled. But in this water, ice water, waist deep, they had to get eight boats up that big creek yonder--beaver meadows all along, so they couldn't track. Sockets broke off their setting poles, so Captain Lewis, he ties on some fish gigs he'd brought along. One way or another, they got on up.

"They now began to get short rations, too. At first they couldn't get any trout, or the whitefish--those fish with the 'long mouths' that Lewis tells about. I'll bet they never tried gra.s.shoppers. But along above here they began to get fish, as the game got scarcer. Lewis tells of setting their net for them."

"You certainly have been reading that little old _Journal_, Billy!"

"Why shouldn't I? It's one great book, son. More I read it, the more I see how practical those men were. Now, those men were all fine rifle shots, and they'd go against anything, though along here there wasn't many grizzlies, and all of them shy, not bold like the buffalo grizzlies at the Falls. But they didn't hunt for sport--it was meat they wanted.

Once in a while a snag of venison; antelope hard to get; no buffalo now, and very few elk; by now, even ducks and geese began to look good, and trout.

"The ducks and geese and cranes were all through here--breeding grounds all along. That was molting time and they caught them in their hands.

They killed beaver with the setting poles, and one day the men killed several otter with their tomahawks, though I doubt if they could eat otter. You see, as Clark's notes say, the beaver were here in thousands.

I suppose when so big a party went splashing up the creek the beaver and otter would get scared and swim out to the main stream, and there some one would hit them over the head as they swam by."

"One thing," said Jesse, "I don't think they flogged any of the men any more. I don't remember any since they left the Mandans."

"Maybe they didn't need it, and maybe their leaders had learned more.

Ever since Lewis picked the right river at the Marias forks, I reckon the men relied on him more. Then, he'd be poking around shooting at the sun and stars with his astronomy machines, and that sort of made them respect him. Clark was a good sport. Lewis, I reckon, was harder to get along with. But they both must have been pretty white with the men. They tell of the hardships of the men, and how game and patient they are--not a whimper about quitting."

"I know," said Jesse, hauling out his worn copy of the _Journal_ from his bed roll and turning the leaves; "they speak of the way the men felt:

"'We Set out early (Wind N.E.) proceeded on pa.s.sed Several large Islands and three Small ones, the river much more Sholey than below which obliges us to haul the Canoes over those Sholes which Suckceed each other at Short intervales emencely laborious; men much fatigued and weakened by being continually in the water drawing the Canoes over the Sholes, encamped on the Lard Side men complain verry much of the emence labour they are obliged to undergo & wish much to leave the river. I pa.s.sify them, the weather Cool, and nothing to eate but venison, the hunters killed three Deer to day.'

"Anxious times about now, eh? But still, I don't think the leaders ever once lost their nerve. Here's what Lewis wrote about it: