“
Captain, dear,” said honest Patrick Gass, putting an arm under his wounded commander’s shoulders as he eased his position in the boat, “ye are not the man ye was when ye hit me that punch back yonder on the Ohio, three years ago. Since ye’re so weak now, I have a good mind to return it to ye, with me compliments. ’Tis safer now!”
The boiling current of the great Missouri, bend after bend, vista2 after vista, had carried them down until at length they had reached the mouth of the Yellowstone, and had seen on ahead the curl of blue smoke on the beach—the encampment of their companions, who were waiting for them here. These wonderful young men, these extraordinary wilderness3 travelers, had performed one more miracle. Separated by leagues of wild and unknown land, they met now casually4, as though it were only what should be expected. Their feat5 would be difficult even today.
William Clark, walking up and down along the bank, looking ever upstream for some sign of his [Pg 273]friend, hurried down to meet the boats, and gazed anxiously at the figure lifted in the arms of the men.
“What’s wrong, Merne?” he exclaimed. “Tell me!”
“Nothing at all, Will,” said he. “Nothing at all—I was playing elk8, and Cruzatte thought it very lifelike! It is just a bullet through the thigh9; the bone is safe, and the wound will soon heal. It is lucky that we are not on horseback now.”
By marvel10, by miracle, the two friends were reunited once more; and surely around the camp fires there were stories for all to tell.
Sacajawea, the Indian girl, sat listening but briefly11 to all these tales of adventure—tales not new to one of her birth and education. Silently and without question, she took the place of nurse to the wounded commander. She had herbs of her own choosing, simple remedies which her people had found good for the treatment of wounds. As if the captain were her child—rather than the forsaken12 infant who lustily bemoaned13 his mother’s absence from his tripod in the lodge14—she took charge of the injured man, until at length he made protest that he was as well as ever, and that they must go on.
Again the paddles plied15, again the bows of the canoes turned downstream. It seemed but a short distance thence to the Mandan villages, and once among the Mandans they felt almost as if they were at home.
[Pg 274]
The Mandans received them as beings back from the grave. The drums sounded, the feast-fires were lighted, and for a time the natives and their guests joined in rejoicing. But still Lewis’s restless soul was dissatisfied with delay. He would not wait.
“We must get on!” said he. “We cannot delay.”
The boats must start down the last stretch of the great river. Would any of the tribesmen like to go to the far East, to see the Great Father? Big White, chief of the Mandans, said his savage16 prayers.
“I will go,” said he. “I will go and tell him of my people. We are poor and weak. I will ask him to take pity on us and protect us against the Sioux.”
So it was arranged that Big White and his women, with Jussaume, his wife, and one or two others, should accompany the brigade down the river. Loud lamentations mingled18 with the preparations for the departure.
Sacajawea, what of her? Her husband lived among the Mandans. This was the end of the trail for her, and not the rudest man but was sad at the thought of going on without her. They knew well enough that in all likelihood, but for her, their expedition could never have attained19 success. Beyond that, each man of them held memory of some personal kindness received at her hands. She had been the life and comfort of the party, as well as its guide and inspiration.
“Sacajawea,” said Meriwether Lewis, when the hour for departure came, “I am now going to finish my trail. Do you want to go part way with us? I can take you to the village where we started up this [Pg 275]river—St. Louis. You can stay there for one snow, until Big White comes back from seeing the Great Father. We can take the baby, too, if you like.”
Her face lighted up with a strange wistfulness.
“Yes, Capt’in,” said she, “I go with Big White—and you.”
He smiled as he shook his head.
“We go farther than that, many sleeps farther.”
“Who shall make the fire? Who shall mend your moccasins? See, there is no other woman in your party. Who shall make tea? Who shall spread down the robes? Me—Mrs. Charbonneau!”
She drew herself up proudly with this title; but still Meriwether Lewis looked at her sadly, as he stood, lean, gaunt, full-bearded, clad in his leather costume of the plains, supporting himself on his crutch20.
“Sacajawea,” said he, “I cannot take your husband with me. All my goods are gone—I cannot pay him; and now we do not need him to teach us the language of other peoples. From here we can go alone.”
“Aw right!” said Sacajawea, in paleface idiom. “Him stay—me go!”
Meriwether Lewis pondered for a time on what fashion of speech he must employ to make her understand.
“Bird Woman,” said he at length, “you are a good girl. It would pain my heart to see you unhappy. But if you came with me to my villages, women would say, ‘Who is that woman there? She has no lodge; she does not belong to any man.’ They must not say that of Sacajawea—she is a good woman. Those are [Pg 276]not the things your ears should hear. Now I shall tell the Great Father that, but for Sacajawea we should all have been lost; that we should never have come back again. His heart will be open to those words. He will send gifts to you. Sometime, I believe, the Great Father’s sons will build a picture of you in iron, out yonder at the parting of the rivers. It will show you pointing on ahead to show the way to the white men. Sacajawea must never die—she has done too much to be forgotten. Some day the children of the Great Father will take your baby, if you wish, and bring him up in the way of the white men. What we can do for you we will do. Are my words good in your ears?”
“Your words are good,” said Sacajawea. “But I go, too! No want to stay here now. No can stay!”
“But here is your village, Sacajawea—this is your home, where you must live. You will be happier here. See now, when I sleep safe at night, I shall say, ‘It was Sacajawea showed me the way. We did not go astray—we went straight.’ We will not forget who led us.”
“But,” she still expostulated, looking up at him, “how can you cook? How can you make the lodge? One woman—she must help all time.”
“Sacajawea,” said he, “I told you that I had made medicine—that I had promised my dream never to have a lodge of my own. Always I shall live upon the trail—no lodge fire in any village shall be the place for me. And I told you I had made a vow22 to my [Pg 277]dream that no woman should light the lodge fire for me. You are a princess—the daughter of a chief, the sister of a chief, a great person; you know about a warrior’s medicine. Surely, then, you know that no one is allowed to ask about the vows23 of a chief!
“By and by,” he added gently, “a great many white men will come here, Sacajawea. They will find you here. They will bring you gifts. You will live here long, and your baby will grow to be a man, and his children will live here long. But now I must go to my people.”
The unwonted tears of an Indian woman were in the eyes which looked up at him.
“Ah!” said she, in reproach. “I went with you. I cooked in the lodges24. I showed the way. I was as one of your people. Now I say I go to your people, and you say no. You need me once—you no need me now! You say to me, your people are not my people—you not need Sacajawea any more!”
The Indian has no word for good-by. The faithful—nay, loving—girl simply turned away and passed from him; nor did he ever see her more.
Alone, apart from her people, she seated herself on the brink25 of the bluff26, below which lay the boats, ready to depart. She drew her blanket over her head. When at length the voyage had begun, she did not look out once to watch them pass. They saw her motionless figure high on the bank above them. The Bird Woman was mourning.
The little Indian dog, Meriwether Lewis’s constant companion, now, like Sacajawea, mercifully banished27, [Pg 278]sat at her side, as motionless as she. Both of them, mute and resigned, accepted their fate.
But as for those others, those hardy28 men, now homeward bound, they were rejoicing. Speed was the cry of all the lusty paddlers, who, hour after hour, kept the boats hurrying down, aided by the current and sometimes pushed forward by favorable winds. They were upon the last stretch of their wonderful journey. Speed, early and late, was all they asked. They were going home—back over the trail they had blazed for their fellows!
“Capitaine, Capitaine, look what I’ll found!”
They were halting at noonday, far down the Missouri, for the boiling of the kettles. Lewis lay on his robes, still too lame17 to walk, watching his men as they scattered29 here and there after their fashion. It was Cruzatte who approached him, looking at something which the voyager held in his hand.
“What is it, Cruzatte?” smiled Lewis.
He was anxious always to be as kindly30 as possible to this unlucky follower31, whose terrible mistake had well-nigh resulted in the death of the leader.
“Ouch, by gar! She’ll bite me with his tail. She’s hot!”
Cruzatte held out in his fingers a small but fateful object. It was a bee, an ordinary honey-bee. East of the Mississippi, in Illinois, Kentucky, the Virginias, it would have meant nothing. Here on the great plains it meant much.
Meriwether Lewis held the tiny creature in the palm of his hand.
[Pg 279]
“Why did you kill it, Cruzatte?” he asked. “It was on its errand.”
He turned to his friend who sat near, at the other side.
“Will,” he said, “our expedition has succeeded. Here is the proof of it. The bee is following our path. They are coming!”
Clark nodded. Woodsmen as they both were, they knew well enough the Indian tradition that the bee is the harbinger of the coming of the white man. When he comes, the plow32 soon follows, and weeds grow where lately have been the flowers of the forest or the prairie.
They sat for a time looking at the little insect, which bore so fateful a message into the West. Reverently33 Lewis placed it in his collector’s case—the first bee of the plains.
“They are coming!” said he again to his friend.
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1
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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vista
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| n.远景，深景，展望，回想 | |
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wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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feat
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| n.功绩；武艺，技艺；adj.灵巧的，漂亮的，合适的 | |
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6
reassurance
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| n.使放心，使消除疑虑 | |
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7
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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8
elk
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| n.麋鹿 | |
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thigh
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| n.大腿；股骨 | |
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10
marvel
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| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
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briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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12
Forsaken
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| adj. 被遗忘的, 被抛弃的 动词forsake的过去分词 | |
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bemoaned
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| v.为（某人或某事）抱怨( bemoan的过去式和过去分词 )；悲悼；为…恸哭；哀叹 | |
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14
lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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plied
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| v.使用（工具）( ply的过去式和过去分词 )；经常供应（食物、饮料）；固定往来；经营生意 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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crutch
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| n.T字形拐杖；支持，依靠，精神支柱 | |
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spasm
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| n.痉挛，抽搐；一阵发作 | |
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vow
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| n.誓(言)，誓约；v.起誓，立誓 | |
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vows
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| 誓言( vow的名词复数 )； 郑重宣布，许愿 | |
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lodges
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| v.存放( lodge的第三人称单数 )；暂住；埋入；（权利、权威等）归属 | |
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brink
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| n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘，边沿 | |
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26
bluff
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| v.虚张声势，用假象骗人；n.虚张声势，欺骗 | |
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banished
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| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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hardy
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| adj.勇敢的，果断的，吃苦的；耐寒的 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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31
follower
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| n.跟随者；随员；门徒；信徒 | |
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32
plow
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| n.犁，耕地，犁过的地；v.犁，费力地前进[英]plough | |
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reverently
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| adv.虔诚地 | |
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