A memorable meeting.

If you will examine the map of the State of Montana you will note that the central county bears the name of Fergus, while one of the counties lying directly south is Yellowstone. The boundary between these two is the Musselshell River, which, flowing directly northward, separates Custer and Dawson counties, joining the Missouri at the northeastern corner of Fergus County. It was in the latter part of May, 1805, that Deerfoot and the two Shelton boys, after a long, wearisome ride and tramp through a wild and unknown region, broken by mountain spurs and crossed by numberless streams, arrived at the mouth of the Musselshell.

Even with summer hardly a fortnight off, ice formed at night, flurries of snow filled the air at times and the camp fire became a necessity. And yet our friends were plagued by mosquitoes, grass was plentiful, and there was no lack of game. The party seemed to be sharing the summer and winter seasons, with the most disagreeable features of both.

Having followed the Missouri so far, Deerfoot said that a crossing place must be found before the morrow, for it was inevitable that the farther they went down stream the larger it would become, because of its numerous tributaries. The Missouri was an eighth of a mile across at its junction with the Musselshell, but its current was gentle. Not an Indian had been seen for four days, and Deerfoot was on foot searching the northern shore for a good crossing place when George Shelton called out:

"Look! There are white men on the other side of the river!"

Deerfoot had observed them and had halted and scrutinized them with no little interest and wonder. The first sight was of six or eight men coming round a bend in the Missouri, all having hold of a long elk-skin rope which, passing over the shoulder of each, was fastened to a large pirogue. Directly behind them was a similar boat, and then six small canoes, the whole string being towed by fully a score of men. The boats contained a large amount of luggage, while a dozen men, one of whom was a negro servant, took turns at the labor.

Since the afternoon was drawing to a close the party came to a pause, and the next minute were looking across the stream at the three youths with their four animals, the riders having dismounted, each party much impressed by sight of the other. At the suggestion of Deerfoot, Victor Shelton acted as spokesman.

"Helloa!" called the lad, "Who are you?"

A man answered in a clear voice:

"This is a United States expedition under Captains Lewis and Clark, on its way to the Pacific Ocean. Who are you?"

"This is an American expedition under Deerfoot the Shawanoe, on its way from the Pacific Ocean."

The man turned and said something to a companion near him. They seemed amused by the reply, and the former speaker called back:

"Won't you join us in camp?"

"We shall be glad to do so. We are hunting for a ford."

"I don't think you will find any. We will send our canoes to you and you can swim your horses over."

"We shall be very much obliged, and shall be glad to stay with you till morning."

A few minutes later two canoes, each in charge of a single man, put out from the southern shore and were paddled across the Missouri to our friends. The luggage was removed from the back of Zigzag and placed in one of the boats, which was so deeply laden that it could carry no one beside the white man. The other was buoyant enough, though severely taxed, to sustain the four. The horses swam beside the boats.

When Deerfoot took his place he said to the white man:

"My brother has worked hard. Will he not let Deerfoot take the paddle?"

"I have no objection," replied the other, with a grin, "if you think you know how to do it better than I."

"No better than my brother, but I hope nearly as well."

"Just watch him," added Victor. "If there's anybody on either side of the Mississippi that can beat that Shawanoe handling a canoe, I'll eat him, boots and all."

Deerfoot had no wish to display his skill, but since it was impossible for him to paddle without doing that he quickly won the admiration of the fellow, who was tired and glad to be relieved from work. He noted the easy grace and slight effort with which the dusky youth drove the craft athwart the current, quickly leaving the other boat behind, and called to his companion:

"Pete, he knows his business! Never seen his like. Hitch your canoe fast and he'll tow you over without using more than one hand and with both eyes shet."

Deerfoot acted as if he did not understand the words, and impelled the craft so accurately that when it touched shore it did so at a point precisely opposite the spot where he and his companions had entered the craft.

While our friends were crossing the Missouri the explorers completed their preparations for the evening. They had toiled hard all day in pulling, pushing and paddling the boats up stream, for there were not many places where progress could be made by any other means. The pirogues were furnished with sails, and now and then a strong favorable wind lightened the toil of the men.

When Deerfoot and the boys stepped out of the boat and came up the low but steep bank, two persons, attired in rough garb resembling that worn by hunters, came forward and cordially received them. The one in advance extended his hand and said:

"I am Captain Meriwether Lewis, and this is my friend, Captain William Clark. We are glad to meet you."

As he spoke he offered his hand to George Shelton, who introduced himself and then his companions.

"This is my twin brother Victor, though he hardly looks it. This is our guide, Deerfoot the Shawanoe."

The two officers welcomed the little party, and Captain Lewis added:

"We should be glad to have you spend several days with us, but you seem to be traveling in the opposite direction."

"Yes," said George, "we are homeward bound, and have been gone so long that we feel in somewhat of a hurry."

"May I ask where your home is?"

"In southern Ohio, at the settlement of Woodvale, near the mouth of the Miami."

"You are a long way from there."

"Yes," Victor took it upon himself to remark, "but we have been a good deal farther."

"When did you leave Woodvale?"

"About a year ago."

"And how far west have you been?"

"Far enough to get a glimpse of the Pacific Ocean."

"That is our destination. We thought we were to be the first white men to make the journey."

"So you will be, for we did not go all the way to the coast. I suppose you will do that?"

"Such are our instructions from President Jefferson."

While this conversation was going on other members of the exploring party gathered round. George had yielded the place of spokesman to his brother, and Deerfoot stood a few paces behind him. He was conscious of the curious scrutiny he was under from several of the members, but he acted as if unaware of it and held his peace. But he, too, was using his eyes and listening to the talk of the leaders, in whom he was much interested.

Victor fancied he detected just a shade of disappointment in the last remark of Captain Lewis, and he hastened to add:

"We amount to nothing. Only two of us belong to your race, and we cannot ask to be considered as men for a few years to come."

"You are husky-looking youngsters," added Captain Clark, from his place beside his associate, as he looked admiringly at the two lads.

"Where did you spend the winter?" continued Lewis.

"In the Blackfoot country, to the northwest. We reached there last autumn and stayed until a few weeks ago."

"I need not ask you if you were well treated, for your looks show that."

"They were all our friends. We should have perished so far north had we not found refuge among them."

"But we are forgetting our hospitality. We will have your horses looked after. Come over by the camp for supper, which will soon be ready. That is the finest horse I ever saw. Which of you is his owner?"

"He belongs to Deerfoot."

"Where did he get him?"

"Last year the Shawanoe's horse was hurt so badly that he had to kill him. Soon after we came across this stallion and Deerfoot managed to capture and tame him."

"He looks as if he might have been the king of a drove."

"He was. The Shawanoe cut him out and conquered him."

Now Deerfoot, while crossing the river, had warned the boys not to indulge in any boasts about him, as you know they were fond of doing. Despite his matchless prowess and skill, he disliked, above everything else, to be paraded before others and to be forced into showing what he was able to do. It was painful to George and Victor to be compelled to suppress their feelings in this way, but they meant to obey their friend, so far as they possibly could.

It was evident that neither Captain Lewis nor Clark nor any of the listeners believed the statement just made by Victor Shelton. The latter glanced at the Shawanoe for permission to explain. Deerfoot wrinkled his brow and shook his head. So the explanation was not made—just then.

The group now sauntered over to the large fire that had been kindled a few rods back from the river bank. Three men were busy preparing the evening meal, the others sauntering here and there, looking after the luggage, a portion of which had been brought ashore. Deerfoot walked over to Whirlwind, who was expecting such attention, and guided him some distance inland, where there was plenty of succulent grass and he could graze apart from the common herd. That equine would never lose his pride until he died. Patting his nose and softly bidding him good-bye, the Shawanoe hastened back to his friends, who had seated themselves on a fallen tree on one side of the fire, while Captains Lewis and Clark were similarly placed opposite. Two of the men were passing around ordinary tin plates, but no knives and no forks were called into use, one's fingers serving in their stead.

A Visit from Captains Lewis and Clark.

The explorers had not suffered from any lack of game. The catfish taken from the river weighed three or four pounds apiece, and several deer, elks and bears had been shot. Among the latter was one belonging to the grizzly species. To show the tenacity of these mammoth brutes, the journal of the explorers records that after the beast had been shot through the heart "he ran at his usual pace nearly a quarter of a mile before he fell." Wild geese were seen in such numbers that their killing often became so easy that it could not be called sport.

By the time our friends had completed their meal night had fully come, and the drop in the temperature made the warmth of the blaze pleasant. A second fire had been started at some distance, where most of the men gathered. Being apart from their leaders, there was more freedom of action and speech. In the course of the evening the boys heard the strains of a violin coming from the other camp, and, turning their heads, saw one of the men seated on a boulder with his head thrown back and vigorously sawing on his fiddle, while his companions were dancing in the open space in front, which was lit up by the firelight. Most of the hardy fellows solemnly swayed their bodies and shuffled back and forth with their arms akimbo, but others were more lively and dashed off jigs, reels and rigadoons. A French voyageur suddenly threw up his heels, supporting himself on his hands, and kept excellent time to the notes of the fiddle.

Neither Lewis nor Clark had ever heard of Deerfoot, but it soon developed that three of their men, Joseph and Reuben Shields and George Shannon, of Kentucky, knew a good deal about him. Shannon was but a boy himself, being only seventeen years old, but had once met the Shawanoe along the Ohio, when he was in the company of Simon Kenton. Deerfoot recalled the incident, and was glad to renew the acquaintance. At the invitation of Shannon he walked with him to the farther camp fire, and became a pleased witness of the boisterous sport of the men.

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