VIII
EXCITEMENT AT FORT MANDAN
"Ho! Hi! Hi-o!"
It was the morning after Sergeant Pryor had hurt his shoulder, and the Northwest Company traders had been talked to by Captain Lewis; a bitterly cold morning, too, with a stinging north wind blowing across the snow and ice. The shrill call drifted flatly.
"Hi! Hi-o!"
"Sergeant of the guard," summoned William Bratton, who in beaver-fur cap, buffalo-fur coat and overshoes and mittens was walking sentry outside the opening of the two lines of cabins.
Sergeant John Ordway came running. All the men stopped their after-breakfast tasks at the barge and in the street and in the timber, to gaze and listen. On the opposite bank of the river an Indian stood, wrapped in his buffalo-robe, with his hands to his mouth, calling. The river, frozen from shore to shore, was only 400 yards wide, and the voice carried clearly.
"I dunno what he wants, but he wants something," informed Sentry Bratton.
"Hi! Hi-o!" And then signs and a jangle of Indian words.
"He wants to talk with us," explained Peter, who read the signs, to George Shannon.
