at top speed, and did not so much as turn their heads.
"They're leaving without their pay! Send and get them, so we can pay them," cried Captain Lewis.
Chaboneau grinned.
"Dey 'fraid of ze tim-tim rapids. Ze chief say no use to pay dem, anyhow. His people take ever't'ing from dem when dey go t'rough village."
Down, down, down with the swift current. The Koos-koos-kee joined the other river, which, the captains figured, was the same river on whose head-waters, far, far eastward, the camp of Chief Ca-me-ah-wait and his Snakes had been located. The Lewis River did they name it, but on modern maps it is the Snake.
Now on down, down, down the rushing Snake. There were rapids, where once or twice a canoe or two was wrecked; but this sort of travel was easier than travel over the mountains, and easier than travel up stream. Many Indians were seen, fishing for the salmon. They were friendly, and much astonished. They sent runners to other villages, below, telling of the coming of white men; sometimes Chiefs Twisted-hair and Tetoh also ran ahead, along the bank, that the Indians might be ready. And on shore the Indian women made much of Sa-ca-ja-we-a and little Toussaint.
"If these white strangers travel with a woman and a baby, they cannot be a war party," reasoned the Indians.
Down, down; until soon after dinner, on October
