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  But it turned out to be three times that number, Pomp.

  Sergeant Gass looked up at the peaks ahead of us as we left the Bitterroot Valley. "These are the most terrible mountains I ever beheld," he said.

  And right from the start they were. The trad was well marked at first, and then it gradually seemed to vanish into thickets and downed timber. Snow was falling, and sleet. Even Old Toby became confused and led us off the track more than once. I was as wet and as cold as I had ever been in my life. Almost the only blankets we had were those in which you and your mother were wrapped. Wed traded everything else for the horses. To see the men wake up in the morning, shaking off the snow and struggling to wrap rags around their feet, was a painful sight.

  Sergeant Gass came up to me that morning. "Captain," he said, "will we ever escape this horrible mountainous desert?"

  "We will," I said.

  Good man that he was, that was enough for him.

  Two days later we saw that we'd soon have to start eating our pack animals. I pressed ahead with a party of hunters, leaving whatever food we could get cached for the main party and hoping to find the way out of those unforgiving mountains. We prayed for the trail to end. And on September 20 it did. We came out on a little upland plain. Smoke rose in the distance from the lodges of the Nez Percé.

  25. SACAJAWEA

  Quamash

  Quamash is a round root, about the size of your fist. But at the start of the world, when Wolf was placing all the good roots into the ground for the Numi to dig, he did not put quamash in our land. Maybe it was Coyote who placed that root in the ground, for it is tricky and very strong. If you have not eaten it from childhood, it will not recognize you. It will start to dance and complain inside your stomach.

  "I do not belong here," Quamash will sing.

  YES, FIRSTBORN SON, that journey over the great mountains that rose up like wolves' teeth was a terrible one. Your good uncle has described it to you well. All through that trip there were no complaints. Even your father did not complain, though perhaps he was only too cold and tired to do so. But did Captain Clark tell you what happened to him and Captain Lewis when we reached the Nez Percé? Did he tell you about the quamash bread? I am not surprised that he forgot to tell you this, for it was not his favorite food. He and all of his men, they became sick after quamash bread. They were so weak from it that they could barely stand up.

  When Captain Lewis came out of the mountains two days later, Captain Clark warned him not to eat the quamash bread. But Captain Lewis did not listen. He was so hungry that he ate twice as much as Captain Clark had eaten. All the other men joined in the feast. When they began to be sick, Captain Lewis decided to use the big medicine. It was a large pill that everyone took when they were ill. It was so strong that it could cure almost anything. But quamash did not like the big medicine.

  "Big medicine," the quamash said, "I will fight you and you will lose."

  Then everyone who took Captain Lewis's pills became even sicker than before. Captain Lewis was the sickest of all. They were as weak as little babies for many days. Even while Captain Clark, who had learned to respect quamash, was off with our friend York and some other men who had not eaten so much, making new canoes from the big pine trees, Captain Lewis was still unable to walk around. For some reason, though it made your father very sick, quamash liked me. Maybe that was because I was not from as far away as the others in our party. It did not make you or me sick So I was able to help take care of the men when they were not well.

  ***

  This is an important story, my son. Because it shows you what kind of good people those Nez Percé were. They were at war with their enemies to the north and the west. They had few weapons. Just like our Numi, they needed guns. While all the men in our party were sick, they could have taken those guns from us. They could have killed all of our men with no trouble at all. But no one lifted a hand to steal anything or to harm any of our party. Instead they treated us as if we were relatives returned from a long absence. They proved that the Nez Percé are an honorable nation who know how to treat their guests.

  Maybe it was because of Watkuweis. She said her name to me in her strange language and then made signs to show it meant Woman Who Went Far Away and Came Back. She was a Nez Percé woman who had been taken captive by our enemies the Pahkees. They took her far to the north, where a white trader bought her freedom. She stayed with him for several winters before making her way back to her people. She smiled at all the sick white men and then signed to me—Those people treated me well. I will tell my people to do them no harm.

  Our stay with the Nez Percé was not a long one. We were there long enough for all the men to recover and for Captain Clark to make canoes near the river whose waters ran deep and clear toward the sunset. The Nez Percé helped with the canoe making. They showed your good uncle how to make a canoe faster by putting it over a fire to burn out the center.

  Twisted Hair, the chief of the village, liked the captains. He drew a map of the country to the west on a piece of white elkskin. Then he and another chief said they would go with us at least part of the way.

  "We will walk ahead of your canoes and tell our people that you are friends," Twisted Hair said.

  When I looked at the rushing waters of the Clearwater River, I thought that walking ahead was a good idea. It seemed as if no boats would be able to go down those rapids. But the captains and the men were not worried. After so many days of pushing and pulling against the current, they were excited at going downstream at last. Nothing could stop them now.

  Old Toby and his son came to me as I stood on the shore with you in your cradleboard. Captain Lewis was about to start down the first of the bad rapids with two canoes.

  "I think they are going to drown," Old Toby said.

  "No," I said, "even though I will walk along the shore, that is not what I think."

  Old Toby just shook his head. I knew he was saying good-bye in the way our people sometimes do. He was saying it not with words of farewell but by making it clear in other ways that he would soon be leaving.

  ***

  The canoes made it through those rapids and through more such places where the river narrowed its throat and growled like a hungry animal. That night, when we had made camp and were all gathered about the fire, Old Toby and his son slipped away. They were seen running to the east along the riverbank.

  The captains were sorry about this. They had not yet given Old Toby anything for the great help he gave them.

  Twisted Hair—they signed—can you send a horseman to bring them back so that we can say good-bye and pay them?

  Twisted Hair disagreed. It is not a good thought—he answered—whatever you give them, the Nez Percé will take it from them.

  So no one was sent after them. When they reached Twisted Hair's village, Old Toby and his son were allowed to each take a horse from those we had left behind. Then they set out on the trad over the mountains, back to our people. If they hurried, they would be able to take part in the buffalo hunt.

  26. WILLIAM CLARK

  Many Rapids, Many Nations

  October 14th, Monday. 1805—

  passed rapids at 6 and 9 miles, at 12 miles we came too at the head of a rapid which the Indians told me was verry bad, we viewed the rapid found it bad in descending three Stern canoes stuck fast for some time on the head of the rapid and one struck a rock in the worst part, fortunately all landed Safe below the rapid which was nearly 3 miles in length....

  In this Island we found some Split timber the parts of a house which the Indians had verry securely covered with Stone, we also observed a place where the Indians had buried their fish, we have made it a point at all times not to tak any thing belonging to the Indians even their wood. but at this time we are Compelled to violate that rule and take a part of the split timber we find here buried for firewood, as no other is to be found in any direction.

  JOURNAL OF WILLIAM CLARK

  SNAKE RIVER RAPIDS, WASHINGTON
/>   IT TOOK US A FULL MONTH, but that journey down the rivers to the Pacific Ocean seemed far swifter as I remember it. Just as there was one rapid after another, so were there many different nations along the rivers. Each nation would quickly give way to the next. For the first two weeks, our Nez Percé guides served us well. They went ahead to announce our arrival to the nations that were kin to them. So we were greeted with great warmth by the Yakimas, the Wanapams, and the Wallawallas.

  As always, you and your mother were a great aid to us. All of the Indians were reconciled to our friendly intentions whenever they caught sight of the two of you. A woman with a party of men is a token of peace.

  I remember one occasion in particular when your mother's presence proved that we were harmless. October 19 it was, the same day that I first saw the snow-tipped peak of one of the mountains that are laid down by Vancouver. We were then on the mighty Columbia. We came to an island where the people hid from us in fright. Pushing open the door of one lodge, a door made of woven reeds, I found thirty-two people sitting on the floor in great fear. They were crying, weeping, even banging their heads. I drew two of them outside and tried to get them to smoke with me.

  It was not until the canoe came up with you and your mother that things changed. Then everyone who had remained within in great despair came outside and seemed to assume new life. Those Umatilla Indians explained that they had seen me shoot a crane just before we reached their island and it had filled them with fear. They had thought we were from the clouds and were not men. But the sight of an Indian woman with a baby had assured them of our humanity and our friendly intentions.

  Because we were so well received, we were able to trade for food with the villages along the river, though the food was not especially to my liking. Most of the men learned to enjoy eating dog. Even Captain Lewis, whose great dog, Seaman, remained faithfully by his side, would eat the meat of the dogs that men and women would sell us. But I could never reconcile myself to that, and I grew heartly sick of smoked salmon.

  There was almost no game to hunt along the rivers. Even fresh fish were not to be had. It was past the time of year when the salmon can be caught as they swim up the stream. There were still great numbers of dying and dead fish in the rivers. But their flesh was spoiled and we did not think it proper to use them.

  ***

  Whenever we came to a new rapid, there would be great crowds of Indians waiting for us. They were not there to assist us. They were there to watch, for we were going through stretches of rough and turbulent water into which no Indian would place a canoe. They were curious to see if we would survive, and we would hear great shouts of excitement and even singing from our onlookers onshore as we entered each narrow and dangerous stretch.

  As always, we treated the people with great courtesy, showing respect to them and trading fairly for the things we needed. At first the nations along the upper part of the river showed hospitality and generosity. But that would change as we came closer to the ocean, just as we saw the houses and the ways of the people change. Soon after leaving the lands of the Nez Percé, the skin lodges gave way to oblong buddings covered with rush mats. Each village had its own graveyard marked by picket fences, quite unlike the burial scaffolds of the mountains and plains Indians.

  I continually called Captain Lewis's attention to this changing scene, urging him to write down the details of all the new things we were seeing. But he was entering one of those times when writing no longer seemed possible for him. I thought then that it was nothing more than the necessity to keep his focus on the details of our journey. There was much to worry about, for our canoes were always in danger of tipping and losing our precious cargo of information that could never be replaced. He always had to be alert for danger.

  Until we reached the first of the falls on the Columbia, there had been little to give us reason to fear the Indians. We had, however, noticed that thievery was becoming common. If we put anything down it would quickly disappear when our backs were turned. This was a surprise to us. We had grown accustomed to the honesty of such people as the Shoshones and the Nez Percé. On one occasion a young man of your mother's nation had walked many miles to return to Captain Lewis a knife that had been dropped by Drouillard when he rose after a night's rest.

  Perhaps the people of the river felt that we were so wealthy we could easily part with some of the many things we owned. Or perhaps they were simply making us pay a toll for passage along their river. Whatever the reason, it soon reached the point where at all times and all places, we were on our guard.

  Then Chief Twisted Hair, who had guided us so well, informed us that great danger did indeed lie ahead. The people of the nation below the great Celilo Falls were Chinooks, unfriendly to his people. The Nez Percé had recently been at war with them. His relatives among the local nations had learned that the Chinooks intended to kill us. Twisted Hair and his fellow chief urged us to turn back. They were ready to return home. They could be of no further help. They did not speak the language of the Chinooks and could no longer act as translators. With that in mind, Meri and I made certain that all of the rifles were in good condition and each man always had a hundred rounds of ammunition.

  With all these concerns, I did not take much note of Captain Lewis's increasing silence. He could write in his journals later, I thought. I did not know there was something deeper hidden beneath the surface of those moods. It was, I think, an inner despair, a shadow of the sad fate that would befall my dear lost friend.

  ***

  Why was writing so important to us? Why did Captain Lewis write so much? Ah, think of it this way. You know how your mother tells you stories? Of course you do. Those stories delight you and also help you to remember, don't they? Well, that is what Meri was doing with his writing. Each time he saw something new, heard a word in another Indian tongue, viewed a new creature, or measured our position by the stars, he was hearing a new story. And by writing it down he ensured that those tales could be told to others.

  27. SACAJAWEA

  The Great Hungry Water

  Long ago, there was a boy who did not respect the salmon people. When he was given a piece of salmon to eat, he threw it on the ground and stepped on it. But as he walked by the river, he slipped and fell into the deep water and drowned. His body was swept out to sea and he joined the salmon people. A year passed and he learned many things. At last the time came for the salmon to return to the river. Salmon Boy swam with them. As he swam past his old village, a woman caught him. She saw the salmon was wearing a copper bracelet on its fin. She knew it was her son. She took him to the medicine man. The medicine man worked and prayed for many days. Gradually Salmon Boy turned back into a human being. As a human, he taught the people many things they needed to know. The most important thing was that they always had to show thanks and respect to the Salmon nation.

  YES, IT WAS as your good uncle said. Those Indians along the river were far different from our people in many ways. The smell of dead and dried fish permeated everything. Our people have long lived by our own river and we, too, are people of the salmon. But here there were fish skins everywhere upon the banks of the river. And the dried grass was full of fleas that swarmed upon us whenever we left our canoes.

  Though they sometimes took blankets or knives from our camp, those nations along the river never threatened us with harm. Even after the two chiefs of the pierced-nosed people turned back, we were still welcomed at each village. In the evenings Cruzatte would play his fiddle and York would dance to amuse the Chinook people.

  Things kept changing as we went down the river, which grew wider and swifter in its flow. The lodges were no longer made of grass mats. Now they were like these houses here in St. Louis, made of boards cut from big trees. Then fog and rain began. Every day was the same. We woke to see a world around as gray as smoke. It seemed as if we were traveling not upon the river but within it. The people along the river were used to that weather; they wore tall hats shaped like cones that shed the rain.
But all that we could do, Firstborn Son, was get wetter and wetter.

  The people there along the lower part of the river looked very different from any Indians I had seen before. As I have told you, few Indians are as good-looking as our own Numi. But these Indians did strange things to themselves. They had pierced holes in their noses and placed white pieces of shell, as long as one of your fingers, in them. Their heads were flattened and pointed on top. It was not the way they were born. They would take pieces of wood and fasten them on the heads of their babies to shape their heads that way. No, I do not think it hurt, but I would never allow that to be done to you, my son.

  The boats of those Chinooks were very beautiful. They were finely made, as graceful as the wings of birds. Those Chinook canoes were very light and strong and much easier to paddle than our boats. The fronts of their largest canoes lifted out of the water, tall as a man's height, and were carved into such shapes as men or bears. The captains would have liked to trade all our boats for such canoes, but they were not able to do so.

  The further downriver we went into that gray land of fog and rain, the harder it became to bargain for things. The food was good to eat, especially wapato roots, which Captain Lewis liked very much. Wapato was kind to everyone's stomach and not quarrelsome like quamash. But those people asked such high prices, saying that the white men below would give great prices for anything. By now your good uncle and Captain Lewis had used up almost all of the trade goods. They had little left to trade with. Captain Lewis was looking more worried, even though we were getting close to seeing the Great Water That Tastes Bad.

  ***

  When we came to that water that tasted like salt, your good uncle was so happy he seemed ready to weep. Everyone was excited, even though it was still raining and there was no place where we could camp safely. Their hopes gave way to disappointment. There was no sign of any white traders on the coast. It seemed that the other white men they had hoped to find did not come there at that time of year. They had sailed away in their boats as big as houses. So there would be no way to send messages back to their homes and their great chief, Jefferson. We could not sad back home in one of those big boats. To get back home we would have to return the way we had come.