decided. The men left their tasks of dressing skins and repairing weapons, and fell in, under their sergeants.
Captain Lewis stood straight and slim before them, in his fringed but stained buckskin suit. His bright hair was tied in a queue behind, and he, like Captain Clark, had grown a beard—yellow as his hair.
"Captain Clark and I have consulted together, men," he said. "We have examined our maps, and compared our notes; and we believe that the southern fork is the true Missouri. It has all the signs of a mountain stream, the Indians never have mentioned passing any south fork in order to proceed on to the great falls, and this south fork certainly bears off for those snowy mountains to the southwest which are undoubtedly the Rock Mountains that divide the waters of the Missouri and the Columbia. Accordingly we will take the south fork. That we have chosen as the Missouri; the north fork I have had the honor to entitle Maria's River, as a tribute to my cousin in Virginia, Miss Maria Wood, of Charlottesville."
"Do you wish to hear from any of the men, Captain?" inquired Captain Clark. "Some of them may have an opinion to offer."
"Well, they favor the north fork, I understand," answered the captain, with a smile. "I'll be glad to hear what they may say."
Who was to speak? Patrick Gass, of course. Pat coughed, and saluted.
